Suddenly I See
by Frpax
Summary: Karofsky has Rachel in his sights, and he's not letting up. Puckleberry Romance/Fluff/Angst/Bit of rescuing - a mix of everything. Both Puck and Rachel's POV. M for language/violence/possible smut.
1. No Offense

**Post-Original Song. Kurt never transferred, because I love him and want to write about him in McKinley situations. For the sake of smoother Puckleberrydom, Zises/Puck isn't in it. Nothing against Lauren, I've just loved Puckleberry since Mash-up. :) Quite a slow start-up but things will pick up speed. This is my first ever fanfic, so I would love reviews/feedback if you have any to offer!**

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><p><em>He wasn't sure exactly how it started. But lately, more and more, Puck had found himself thinking about Rachel Berry. Yes, Tyrannosaurus Puck, daydreaming about the girl who would win any Annoying Midget of the Year award hands-down. It was pretty embarrassing to admit, even to himself. Whatever, though. He was probably just caught up on the fact that she hadn't even let him get to second base. It had to be some weird, passing phase. Come on – the Sex Shark, mooning over Berry? Never gonna happen.<em>

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><p><em> {A few weeks prior...}<br>_

"Alright guys, we're all stoked about winning Regionals. You guys were great, and I want to say again how proud I am of you all. But remember, we have to keep our eyes on the prize. We have to be on top form if we want to take Nationals. This week, I've lined up some songs I know you'll love. And they're all about... _inspiration_." Mr Schuester, grinning excitedly, wrote the word "inspiration" on the board and underlined it for good measure.

Stifling a yawn, Puck was anything but inspired. Sure, he liked to sing, and he liked music. But he didn't get why they had to talk about it so damn much. Couldn't they just take a song as it was, sing it and have fun with it? If you start picking a song apart too much, you ruin it. He'd always been impulsive and impatient, so long talks about why exactly the singer used the word "and" were not his style.

"Mr Schuester, if I may?" The Glee club let out a collective sigh as Rachel's hand shot into the air. Even Mr Schue looked a little weary as he nodded for Rachel to go ahead. As the small brunette made her way to stand in front of the club, Puck pulled himself out of his daydream to check out her ass. He had to hand it to her: she had a great ass.

Hey, he was still a good Jew. A little ass-checking was nothing compared to what he could have done. He could have tried way harder to get her to put out, but he didn't. So really, he was owed a few check-outs, right?

Beaming, Rachel started to talk, in her characteristic fast-paced babble. "First off let me say that I'm thoroughly impressed by the improvement in everyone's attitudes. As you know I had been carrying most of this club's workload by myself due to laziness on many of your parts, and while my star talent made that entirely possible it's nice to know that I no longer have to shoulder the burden of other people's apathy."

Puck rolled his eyes, and he wasn't the only one. Behind him, he heard Santana let out of a huff of annoyance. Rachel didn't seem to know she was being obnoxious, and carried on as if she wasn't getting dirty looks from the entire room.

"I've applied my excellent organisational skills to a project I feel will help all of you." Picking up a stack of papers from the piano, she handed them out. "I created each of you a timetable filled with vocal exercises and goals specifically tailored to each of your individual flaws. Here's mine," she grinned, holding up an ornately decorated timetable on a sheet of A4, her name at the top, complete with a gold star. "Of course, I already have perfect pitch, so mine consists mainly of my usual vocal routine."

"Hold up a second, Schindler's List," Santana burst out, scanning her timetable angrily. "What the hell is this? My voice '_needs work in most areas, poor in many of them'_? Are you TRYING to make me cut you?" Around the room, more people were noticing the criticism on their timetables, and before long Rachel was getting glares from almost everyone.

Obviously taken aback, she tried to stutter out an answer. "I- I- I just thought that with us training for Nationals, we have to try to be perfect, a-and try to make sure we all sound-"

"Sound like what – like you? Annoying, whiny and shrill? No thanks," Santana spat. "Why don't you and your big Jew nose take a permanent holiday somewhere? The North Pole maybe, or the bottom of the Pacific. That way I wouldn't have to deal with your stupid, mannish face every day. You are _so annoying_ it makes me want to drop-kick a kitten. Shit, and you wonder why everyone hates you!" Her voice was filled with venom as she stood and stared down at Rachel.

"Santana! That's enough!" Mr Schue shouted, far too late as usual.

Santana merely sneered in return. "What? We're all thinking it, I'm just saying it. Nobody actually likes the little freak."

A few seconds of silence passed, and nobody spoke up. Rachel's head had dropped, her cheeks going red in humiliation. With a derisive laugh, Santana stalked out of the choir room.

Sighing, Mr Schue rubbed his face with his hands. "Guys... we should probably just leave practice for today. I'll see you in class or next practice." The teacher had apparently decided that continuing with practice would be useless, since everyone would be too busy staring daggers at Rachel. He was right.

The Glee members, all annoyed by and muttering about their respective 'timetables', left without a word to Rachel. Quinn sauntered away with a smirk on her face, tickled by Rachel's verbal beating. Finn hovered awkwardly for a moment as Rachel slumped into a chair, looking morose. He looked like he was about to talk to her, but a call of "Coming, Finn?" from Quinn sent him hurrying out the room. Even Mr Schue left in silence, giving Rachel a small pat on the back but offering no further comfort.

In the end, it was just Puck and Rachel. He felt a twinge as he watched her study the floor, her brown eyes filled with sadness, that left him feeling odd. Since when did he care if Berry got a little sad? It happened all the time. This chick cried over sad commercials.

"Hey, Berry," Puck stuck his hands in his pockets and sat in the chair next to her.

"What do you want, _Puckerman_? You want to tell me that no one likes me, too? That I'm an outcast in my own social group? I know that already, but thank you for reminding me."

What was he supposed to say to that? It was kind of true. He liked her all right, and she was pretty cool, but she was definitely on the irritating side sometimes. He didn't really know what he wanted, or why he was still there. Unable to answer, he shrugged and scuffed his feet off the floor.

Usually, Rachel's meltdowns left Puck laughing or shaking his head - or both. But this time, she was quiet. She wasn't wailing dramatically or throwing a fit. She just looked... lonely.

"I know people don't like me," Rachel murmured. Her voice was tiny, in complete contrast to how she usually spoke. "I know I'm obnoxious and I don't think before I say things and I can offend people. I try not to. I-I just thought that being in Glee club changed things. I thought... finally, here's people that _like _me. They know what I'm like but they can get past it because they're my friends. At last, I had some real friends. I guess I was wrong. Everyone still hates me; they just don't say it as much." She smiled bitterly, before her eyes started welling up and her mouth pulled down.

"I just wish people liked me," she whimpered, the tears spilling down her cheeks. She locked eyes with him and he had to take a breath. Her eyes were gorgeous. Even when she was crying – especially when she was crying. He'd never noticed how when the light hit them, they looked honey brown, rich and golden.

She seemed to notice his strange expression(he hadn't been able to look away from her for a good few seconds), and immediately her face changed.

She looked wary, but resigned. Like a beaten dog just bracing itself for the next kick. Puck had seen the look plenty of times before in the hallways, when Rachel noticed a bully approaching her with a slushie or a cruel grin. _He_ had been that bully, on more than one occasion. Shit.

"Why are you even listening to me? We're not friends. You told me so yourself, the day we broke up. You never speak to me, apart from when you're telling me to shut up." No longer looking him in the eye, she seemed to expect an insult in response.

Like he wanted to be reminded of that. He still felt guilty about saying that to her, even though it was so long ago. If he could apologise, he would, but Puck had never been good at saying sorry.

Thinking about how much of an ass he was to her was making him itch. He had to steer the conversation in another direction. "Us Jews got to stick together, that's all." Not the best answer, but he went with it.

Rachel didn't say anything, and she was still sniffling. The silence stretched and Puck felt more uncomfortable by the second. The only thing worse than being with a crying chick, is sitting without speaking to a crying chick because you have no idea how to stop her blubbering.

"So... I still need to work on that high b, huh?" Puck finally said, forcing a half-grin onto his face as he looked over his timetable. If he was the type of person who gave a rat's ass about what other people thought, he might be offended by the thing. But whatever, it was just a stupid timetable, right? He didn't see what the big deal was.

"Yes," Rachel sniffed, her voice shaky, "The high b is a very important note for a baritenor. In fact I'd say it is crucial that our vocals are as polished as they can be if we have any hope of winning Nationals, although apparently our teammates don't feel the same. Frankly their complete lack of dedication is-"

"Whoa, Berry, calm down. Simmer," He interrupted. Even when she was crying, she couldn't resist giving a lecture. "Maybe you can help me get that high b or whatever. During lunch sometime?"

Rachel turned to him, and for a moment she seemed to think he was up to something . Looking for sexual favours, maybe. Well, as sweet as that would be, he kind of just wanted her to stop crying. He held her gaze and tried to look as sincere as possible.

After a moment's hesitation, she gave him that classic Rachel Berry thousand-watt smile. Without thinking, he smiled back. God, she looked good when she smiled. And when her eyes were still shining with tears... wow.

On a sudden impulse, he reached over to her. Gently, he traced her cheekbones with his thumb, wiping away the remaining tears.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Rachel's stare was shocked, frozen on him. Her mouth opened to speak, but Puck jumped up before she got the chance. He stuck his hands back in his pockets, and, unable to think clearly, shrugged again. "Don't sweat it, Berry, people like you. They just get on your case 'cause you're really annoying. No offense," he said gruffly, mirroring what he said the day they broke up. He forced himself to ignore the fresh hurt on her face as he turned away.

Walking out the room quickly, he definitely didn't think about her eyes, which looked so wounded after his comment. Eyes that looked honey brown in the light. He definitely didn't think about the new tears he saw well up in them as she looked back down to the ground. Why would he think about that? He was Puckzilla, king of the studs. He didn't have time to waste thinking about Berry's latest freak out. As he reached his truck, he shook his head. If he wasn't thinking about those things, then why were they still in his mind?

He drove home slowly, tuning out his thoughts with the radio. And yet, as he drove, he clenched his fist over and over, trying to ignore the tingling feeling that was still in his thumb, like touching her had electrocuted him.


	2. Please Let Me Go

**I've already had an awesome response with all the alerts/favourites/author faves - thank you guys so much :) I'll sort of be switching between Puck and Rachel's POV, depending on whose thought-type I'm "feeling" at the time... if that makes sense. Response and feedback mean a lot to me, I'll love you if you give a comment etc! For some reason it won't let me put in any line breaks... So everything looks messy and shoved together. I'm sorry about that, believe me as someone who's OCD about organisation, it pains me too!**

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><p>After Glee club, Rachel spent the night feeling intensely depressed, playing over what Santana had shouted at her earlier. She was ugly, nobody liked her, why didn't she go away? Once again, Santana had her showcased her ability to pinpoint and stab at a person's deepest insecurities with every word she said.<p>

It was true, though, wasn't it? Rachel thought she had been disproving all her fears since she joined Glee, but she had been wrong. In Hollywood-cliché turn of events, the star quarterback had fallen for the outcast. She was accepted among her friends, her talent recognised. Her biological mother had found her, and had been just as beautiful and talented as Rachel always imagined her to be.

But not too long after, the star quarterback went back to the head cheerleader. Her friends, it turned out, didn't actually like her. Her mother had spent five minutes with her, decided she didn't want to know her, and adopted a shiny new baby instead.

The last part was the one that stung the most of all. Yes, people had told her it wasn't her fault. Told her that Shelby just couldn't handle the pain of looking at the beautiful girl whose life she'd missed, and thought she was doing the right thing for both of them. That might have been the case, but how could a lonely teenage girl see that? All Rachel could see was her being rejected, once again, by the one person who was supposed to love her forever.

Now Shelby had a new baby, who she could have little 'thirsty' memories with, and sing to, and call beautiful. Obviously Rachel wasn't good enough. The thought made her eyes smart with tears, like they did whenever she thought about her mother.

She was well used to the feeling of rejection by now: a cold pain that clutched at your heart and made your stomach sink. She didn't know if she could take feeling it one more time.

Jumping up suddenly from lying on her bed, she angrily dashed away her tears and picked up her phone. Noticing she had a text from Noah, she ignored it for the moment. She selected "Create New Message" and sent a text to Kurt.

_Can you help me with something?_

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><p>As she walked into school the following day, Rachel smoothed her dress down nervously, unable to stop herself from tugging it a little further down her legs. <em>I feel ridiculous<em>, she thought self-consciously.

Once again, she had enlisted Kurt's help with her wardrobe. Making herself ignore the fact that last time, Finn had only paid her any attention because he wasn't getting any from Quinn, she tried to act confident. That, at least, was one thing her impressive acting skill allowed her to do.

After making Kurt promise that there would be no Lycra and no perms this time, Rachel allowed him to plan different outfits for her. Her pick(and unsurprisingly the most conservative) was the one she was wearing - a strapless midnight blue dress, pleats at the bottom, with matching heels that were slightly too high to be comfortable. Kurt insisted on a strapless push-up bra to accentuate the little cleavage Rachel possessed. Her hair was softly curled, her eyes lined in smoky makeup. The look was a decided declaration of Sexy.

Thankfully Kurt had allowed her a short cardigan, so she would "avoid looking like a hooker at a wedding", as he so tactfully put it. She pulled her sleeves down, grateful for the extra cover. However excellent an actress she was, she wasn't comfortable being that exposed.

Taking a breath and feigning an effortless strut, Rachel subtly scanned the hallways. It wasn't long before she saw Finn, taller than everyone else in the hall, leaning against a locker with the goofy grin that made her heart skip a beat. He noticed her, and she felt a jolt of pleasure at the shock on his face. Smiling innocently as he hurried over to her, she tried to stand in a composed manner, and concentrated her hardest on not falling over.

"Hey, Rach," Finn stammered out, staring at her clothes(mostly her chest). "You look, uh... you look tall. Taller, today, than you usually do. Not that you're usually short, well, you kind of are, but that's not a bad thing, it's probably the shoes 'cus heels can make you taller-"

"Good morning, Finn," she interjected, giving him a sunny grin, as though talking to him wasn't killing her. "How are you today?"

"I'm... I'm good. How are you? You look... good." Finn visibly thought about whether he'd meant that she looked in a good mood, or that she looked attractive. The moment's thought seemed to give him enough time to shake himself from his stupor, and he turned serious.

"What's with the clothes, Rachel? I thought you liked the way you dress. I mean... I like it. Liked it. You don't need to dress up, you look fine the way you are." A passing guy whistled at her, causing Finn to scowl. "These guys are all staring at you. Haven't we... sort of been over this?"

Rachel didn't miss the way Finn changed the tense from _like _to _liked_, and she flinched. The hurt was immediate and severe. She had braced herself for Finn shooting her down again, reiterating that they were over, but she couldn't prepare for the reality of it.

Then, the wave of hurt that washed over her was pushed aside by a tide of anger at his last question. How could he stand there and ask that? "Haven't we been over this?" How could he confirm that they weren't together, and then act like a boyfriend?

"I'm sorry to say this Finn, but since you've made it so abundantly clear that you cannot possibly forgive me and have severed all romantic ties between us, you can hardly expect to have a say in what _I choose_ to wear to school," she bit out, "And I shouldn't think it would matter to you anymore whether or not men are objectifying me." Turning on her heel, she was planning on a dramatic storm-off, but Finn's hand caught her round the wrist.

"Wait," he said, his voice soft. Slowly, Rachel turned back around, hating herself for loving his touch and for the hope that sprung up in her. "I need to talk to you. I've been doing a lot of thinking... about us and everything. Do you think you could meet me in the auditorium at lunch?" Only then did he take his hand away, leaving her cold.

"I... sure," Rachel nodded, fighting the urge to beam at him. "I'll see you then." Finn smiled and headed off to class, while Rachel stood on the spot, grinning, her heart bursting with happiness. She knew there was hope for them. After she sang Get It Right at Regionals, he had been looking at her with something like awe. Like she'd finally got through to him; like he saw how much she still loved him and realised he loved her too.

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><p>Rachel spent the periods before lunch in a blissful daze. It was probably the first time in her school career that she hadn't paid attention to a single word her teachers said. Instead, she gazed out the window, planning what she would say to Finn. She would confess her love, and he would too. They would come together in a tender embrace, and she would fit right against his chest like she used to, smelling his aftershave and feeling him kiss her head. It would be perfect.<p>

When the bell finally signaled the end of the period and the start of lunch, Rachel shot up out of her seat. Pushing past anyone who got in her way(or trying to, due to her small stature), she made it to the auditorium as fast as her heels would allow. Climbing up onto the stage, she was practically shaking with excitement while she waited.

And waited... and waited... and waited. For almost the whole of lunch, she stood there, watching the seconds tick by. _Any minute now_. _He'll be here any minute_. The longer she waited, the more sure she was that Finn would burst through the door to tell her he loved her. But he didn't show.

When there was only a minute left of lunch, she was overcome with a crushing sadness. Once again, he had left her. She couldn't believe it.

Getting down from the stage dejectedly, she walked numbly into the corridors just as the bell rang and lunch ended. Around her, students filtered to class, until she was the only one left.

Or at least, she thought she was the only one left. As she headed to English, unable to care that she would be late, she saw something that felt like a punch in the stomach.

Finn and Quinn were against a locker, obviously caring as much about tardiness as she did in that moment. She stopped, going unnoticed, as the two talked.

"What's the matter with you? You've been acting weird today," Quinn challenged, staring out the quarterback. "Like you've got to be somewhere."

"No, uh... it's nothing. I was gonna meet... the band in the auditorium at lunch. To practice a song for Glee. It doesn't matter. Nothing important." Finn answered haltingly, throwing in a shrug. He was a terrible liar, but Quinn either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Well, aren't you glad you didn't?" Quinn asked breathily, running a hand over his chest. Finn grinned lopsidedly at her touch, taking her hand.

"Definitely." He leaned in and kissed her slowly.

Rachel, still listening, felt her whole world slow down. Her vision actually rocked from side to side for a moment. _It doesn't matter._ She didn't matter. He was here, kissing Quinn, again, and she wasn't important. She couldn't stop the gasping sob that constricted her chest as she whirled around, running back to the auditorium.

She was sure she'd seen Finn and Quinn startle and look in her direction when she turned to run. She thought she might have seen shock and guilt on Finn's face, like a boy caught in wrongdoing. Was he feeling guilty because he was with Quinn, or because Rachel had seen it? Did it matter?

Clambering back onto the stage, Rachel made no effort to control her tears as she sat at the piano and played, belting out a song. It was one of her favourites, the same song she'd auditioned for Glee with, and she'd been singing it all her life. But she had never been able to feel the song as deeply as she did then.

_**On my own**_

_**Pretending he's beside me**_

_**All alone, I walk with him till morning**_

_**Without him**_

_**I feel his arms around me**_

_**And when I lose my way I close my eyes**_

_**And he has found me  
><strong>_

_**In the rain the pavement shines like silver**_

_**All the lights are misty in the river**_

_**In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight**_

_**And all I see is him and me for ever and forever  
><strong>_

_**And I know it's only in my mind**_

_**That I'm talking to myself and not to him**_

_**And although I know that he is blind**_

_**Still I say, there's a way for us  
><strong>_

_**I love him**_

_**But when the night is over**_

_**He is gone; the river's just a river**_

_**Without him the world around me changes**_

_**The trees are bare and everywhere**_

_**The streets are full of strangers  
><strong>_

_**I love him**_

_**But every day I'm learning**_

_**All my life I've only been pretending**_

_**Without me his world will go on turning**_

_**A world that's full of happiness**_

_**That I have never known  
><strong>_

_**I love him**_

_**I love him**_

_**I love him**_

_**But only on my own.**_

As the last note faded, she put her head in her hands, breathing hard. It was a long time before she composed herself, and looked at the time. It was nearly halfway through English. Knowing she was so late to a class would usually send her sprinting, but now she only acknowledged the fact dully. She couldn't face class, the possibility that she might see Finn. She had to go home. Her dads were out of town, anyway, so she wouldn't have to explain her absence to them.

Taking a last, ragged breath, she sung in her head and tried to summon a smile. _When you're smiling, when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you. _The mantra normally allowed her to smile no matter how bad she was feeling, but this time it was barely enough to stop her crying.

Leaving the auditorium, she couldn't even face going to her locker to get the books she'd need for homework and catch-up work. What if Finn was still there? He might still be kissing Quinn. Or worse, he might try to speak to her. Rachel wasn't sure how she would cope if he was nice to her. She might break down right there in front of Quinn's smug face.

Before she could get more than 5 steps from the auditorium, she walked straight into a tall, dark-haired figure in a red varsity jacket. With a yelp of surprise, she realised she had just bounced off Karofsky. Azimio stood beside him, a blue slushie in his grip.

"Heard you singing in the auditorium, Berry," Karofsky smirked. "Not bad, for a midget."

"What do you want, _Dave_?" Rachel asked pointedly, trying to disguise her apprehension. "Excuse me, if you please, I'd rather not talk to you."

Azimio stepped forward, and Rachel tensed up, eyeing the slushie in his hand nervously. "Hate to bother you, Gleek. Normally we wouldn't make a point of bothering a girl, but you're such a goddamn freak we had to make an exception." He jerked his hand forward, as though he was about to throw the drink in her face, and both boys laughed when she flinched.

"Please just let me go," she muttered. Why couldn't people leave her alone? Why was she the target for every joke, every slushie, every bit of torment? She tried to step around the footballers, but for every move she made, they made another, blocking her path.

"Let you go?" Karofsky asked, for all the world as though she'd asked an extremely foolish question. "With you dolled up like that, all heels and legs? That'd be a dumb thing to do."

An icy shard of panic pierced her as that sunk in, and she desperately tried to think. "Please," she stammered out. "I-I carry a rape whistle." She attempted to deliver the statement like it was her trump card, undeniable proof they couldn't touch her. Yet for some reason, the two seemed to find her funnier than ever. Their loud, sudden laugh made her jump.

"Who said anything about that? I just want a little kiss," Karofsky cooed, a wide smile on his face as he leaned towards her. Instinctively, she moved away, her back pressed against a locker.

Azimio snorted with laughter. "See, that's your problem, Berry. You always gotta make things so dramatic and shit. It's prolly why you get beat into the ground by everyone at the school," he offered sagely.

Rachel found she couldn't answer. She couldn't look away from Karofsky, whose face was still intimidatingly close to hers, eyes alight with malice. He was inching almost imperceptibly closer, his smile growing wider the more afraid she became.

"Alright, come on," Azimio chuckled, clapping Karofsky on the back. "Let's leave the freak to be a freak. You're just lucky I'm thirsty and I'm gonna keep the drink," He added, pointing at Rachel, "Otherwise you woulda got a face full of ice."

When Karofsky didn't move, Azimio hesitated. "Come on, man, sooner or later a teacher's gonna come along, and I ain't gettin' into shit for cuttin' with you _again_. Bieste said she'd kick us off the team if we got caught one more time."

Silently, Rachel willed him to leave. _Go, go, go, please go._ When Karofsky straightened up, she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of intense relief. _Thank you_. Since her eyes were closed, she didn't see him make a sudden move for her.

Before she knew what was happening, his hand was gripping her jaw, forcing her face up to his. "Not even one little kiss?" He leered, his hazel eyes cold. His grip was painfully tight, his fingers digging bruises into her face.

An indescribable panic exploded in her. Her heart raced, her mouth went suddenly dry, her limbs were seized with the frantic desperation to move, to run, to _get him off._"Let me go!" she squeaked, pulling at his wrist, failing to move him. "Please let me go." She couldn't hear how pitiful she sounded. All she could hear was her heart, beating in her ears, and all she could see were his eyes, growing closer.

He was almost close enough now for their noses to touch. And then, they did. She could feel his breath on her face, and fear unlike any kind Rachel had ever felt before took over. She froze, completely, unable to speak or move or even blink. She could only stare wide-eyed at the football player, while her insides were doused in cold water.

"What you doing?" Azimio demanded, shocked. "That's not cool, man, she's a chick! Ay, let her go!"

For several agonizing seconds, nobody moved. Then, Karofsky put his other hand towards Rachel, without moving his face. With deliberate slowness, he gripped the front of her cardigan, and pulled. The thin fabric ripped apart, falling down to the floor in what seemed like slow motion.

"Oops." Karofsky smirked. Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, he let her go, and stood back. Azimio was staring at him, astounded. As for Rachel, she was just trying to make herself breathe.

"Give me that." Karofsky pointed to the slushie. Azimio started to protest, but it was snatched out of his hand before he could finish. Rounding on Rachel again, Karofsky threw the drink square in her face. "Oops."

The shock of ice was like a slap in the face. It was worse than a slap in the face. Gasping, scrubbing at her eyes, Rachel heard Karofsky laugh. Azimio was silent. She could tell by the pain in her jaw that bruises were forming as she stood there, trying to keep herself from passing out in terror. And still, she couldn't dredge her mind out of her fear to make herself run. She was a deer in the headlights.

Then, out of nowhere, a new voice echoed through the hall.

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_


	3. I'm A Complex Guy, Babe

****Again, thank you all so much for the reviews/faves/alerts! It really means a lot to me, and it encourages me to write :) I used to write all the time when I was a young teenager, and I was told I was "good for my age" by my teachers. Then, I turned into a rebellious teen, and didn't pick up a pen(/keyboard) for many years. This is pretty much the first piece of fiction I've written since I was 14, so hearing that people like it is incredibly encouraging. Also, yes, there's a lot more Puckleberry in this, since poor Noah was only mentioned once in passing in the last chapter! ONCE AGAIN, I've put in line breaks but they aren't actually showing up. It took like 2 days for them to appear in the last chapter, ugh. Sorry everything's so messy, again.****

****PS: I'm from the UK and really know nothing about the US schooling system; homeroom and how many periods a day there are and things like that. Forgive me if I ever make any mistakes when I write about school :)****

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><p>By the time Puck got home after Glee, he started to feel guilty about acting like such a douchebag to Rachel(although he'd deny it, if you asked). It wasn't like she'd done anything to deserve it, except look at him with those big brown eyes like she was Bambi or some shit, and make him want to comfort her.<p>

He pulled into his driveway and stomped straight up to his room, picking up his xbox controller. He didn't really know what happened today - all he knew was that it left him pretty shaken. But it was nothing some therapeutic Black Ops Nazis couldn't fix, right?

However, the longer he played, the more frustrated he became. He hardly made it 5 rounds before he was killed each time, and eventually he had to accept the fact that he was distracted. He was actually __distracted__by __guilt__, which was a new and scary concept for him. Irrationally, he was annoyed at Berry because he felt guilty about being annoyed at her earlier. This whole thing was screwing with his head.

For a few hours, he toyed with the notion of stopping by her house to apologise, or at least calling. In the end, he chickened out. Sorry didn't suit him. So, he settled on sending her a text, which was the closest thing to an apology he could manage.

After ten minutes of staring at a blank phone screen, he still didn't know what to write. Something simple would do, like "Sorry for today, Berry", but for the life of him he couldn't think of something that sounded just right. Exactly why he needed it to be just right, he wasn't sure.

After much deliberation, he impulsively typed out a short message, and hit send before he could second guess himself.

__u + me + high b, choir room tomorrow lunch? ;)__

Of course, he needed to make it sound suggestive. That was what he did. He would much rather make a dirty joke about something than actually be serious. Plus, it was kind of funny, flirting with Rachel. He could just picture the outraged look on her face as she saw the wink, and he was actually looking forward to her angry response.

And yet, he didn't get one. Much later on, he still hadn't got a text back, even though he knew Rachel would have got the message. She had the singer's final note of Defying Gravity as her text alert(something he found irritating and strangely endearing at the same time) and the thing was impossibly loud. There was no way she wouldn't have heard her phone go off.

Whatever, she was probably just annoyed about what he said in Glee. The good thing about Rachel, though, was that she was neurotically polite. It didn't matter how angry she was, she couldn't stop herself from saying please, thank you, and turning up if you had something scheduled. He was sure she'd show, and then he could use his badass charm to win her over again. Not that he cared what she thought of him, or anything.

* * *

><p>In school the next day, Puck was swaggering about the hallways as he usually did, exchanging high-fives and fist taps every now and again. It was one of those once-in-a-blue-moon days, where he actually made it to school before first period started, and had time to waste before he dragged himself to class.<p>

Mike passed by, raising a hand in greeting, but Puck missed it. Something else had just caught his attention. Jacob Ben-Israel, the creepy kid that followed Rachel about like a randy dog, was literally hopping on the spot with excitement, staring intently at something. Following his stare, Puck felt like he'd been knocked on his ass.

Berry was walking down the hall, and she looked... incredible. There was no other word for it. From her tanned legs, to her make-up, to her dress, she was fucking hot. __Well, look who got all dressed up for the Puckmeister__, he thought with a smirk. Quickly stepping in front of Ben-Israel when the nerd started to walk towards Rachel, Puck held up a fist in warning.

"Listen, bedwetter. Usually I make a point of being cool to my fellow Jews - but I'm not above breaking that rule if I catch you hanging around Berry again," he growled. "You understand me?"

"What are you, her boyfriend?" Somehow, the geek had summoned up the courage to dare question his ruling, even if he did it in a voice that suggested he might faint right there and then. All it took was for Puck to raise his eyebrows and move a tiny bit closer, and the creep ran off without a backwards glance. __Like a boss___,_ Puck congratulated himself.

With that problem sorted, he turned around, planning to walk up to Rachel and charm her with a bad-boy grin. When he saw who she was talking to, he stopped. A strange feeling he couldn't pinpoint burned in his chest - why was he always getting strange feelings around her? - as he watched her smile at Finn. Like Finn was this perfect human, and she felt so lucky to be talking to him. Rachel had __always__ thought that, she had since the moment Finn joined Glee. Puck was fed up of it. Rachel put Finn on this crazy pedestal, and that's why Finn felt like he could mess her around so much.

Something about watching her gaze at him with complete adoration made him sick and irritable. He was _so sick_ of everyone thinking Finn was the freaking messiah. He snorted, once again not really sure why he was annoyed, and walked away. He would see her at lunch, anyway. For reasons unknown to him, he was sort of looking forward to her bossing him about and getting all cute and frustrated when he didn't cooperate. What the hell was happening to him?

* * *

><p>A few periods later, and Puck was pissed off.<p>

There he was, at lunch, sitting alone in the choir room like an idiot. He could have been in the cafeteria getting his burger on, but no. He was waiting on Rachel Freaking Berry, who had apparently decided not to show up and help him with that stupid high b he didn't even care about, anyway. She'd stood him up, and he was pretty sure the fact that it wasn't actually a date made it worse.

He had no real idea why he was here in the first place. When he'd asked Rachel to help, it'd just been to stop her crying. But then, he'd had some weird brain meltdown and touched her face like she was his girlfriend or something, and it got weird. And like always, Puck dealt with the emotional situation by doing what he did best: acting like an asshole, then bailing.

Sure, he hadn't actually got confirmation from her that she'd be there, but he expected it. This was Rachel. Keeping appointments was kind of her thing. If she didn't have her stupid gross smoothie at exactly the right second every morning, she practically had a breakdown(something Puck had experienced first-hand when, during the short time they dated, he unknowingly ate the banana Rachel planned on using for her breakfast drink the next day).

The bell rang, and through the choir room's open door, Puck could see students head to class. Something he should probably be doing himself. He took a moment to consider it - English, with Berry and a few kids from Glee. Fuck that. Instead, he picked up an acoustic guitar from the band area of the room, absent-mindedly strumming it as he paced up and down.

Suddenly, he realised he was playing Sweet Caroline, remembering the way she smiled at him when he sang that. With a scowl, he stopped, and sat heavily in one of the plastic chairs. His head was all kinds of messed up today. He could just have went home right then, but his mom was home, sleeping off a night shift. There was no way she'd buy it if he told her he was sick. He could have went to the nurse's office, but he'd already used his "headache nap" for the day to skip math. Besides, he wanted to be in Glee later in the day.

Not that he'd admit it to himself, but he wanted to be there to make sure nobody attacked Rachel again. Yeah, she was really annoying, and if she didn't get every single solo she'd protest and maybe even walk out. But the way people treated her was not cool. You didn't treat a chick like that; especially one who was as... delicate as Berry.

For the next twenty minutes or so, he stayed in the choir room, practicing whatever songs came to mind on the guitar. It wasn't until his stomach reminded him it was hungry with a loud growl that he stood up to leave. __Nothin' better to do, might as well go to Micky D's__, he grumbled internally. It was a pretty nice day out, too. Maybe he could get something to eat, drive around with the window down, find a sunny place to sit until he had to head back for Glee.

Since his mom was asleep, she would have disconnected the phone, like she always did when she was just off a night shift. No danger of her getting a call from the school telling her he'd been skipping class. He was a free man for the day.

Stepping into the hallway, he stretched out his muscles, stiff from staying still for so long. Halfway through the stretch, he went completely still. What the hell was that?

Either his mind was playing tricks on him, or he heard a terrified voice squeak somewhere in the halls. "Let me go" - or something like that? He strained his ears, jumping when a voice boomed out.__"What you doing? That's not cool, man, she's a chick! Ay, let her go!"__

"Azimio?" Puck said to himself, confused. What the fuck was going on? Where was all the noise coming from? Jogging down the corridor, he turned a corner, seeing Azimio and Karofsky standing in front of a small, brunette figure. Karofsky was laughing, Azimio looked shocked. The third person was dripping in slushie, standing completely still...

...Wearing a midnight blue dress and with her cardigan lying torn on the ground. _Let me go; She's a chick, let her go!_ Puck wasn't sure which conclusion to jump to first. All he knew was that Rachel Berry was cornered by two people, her clothes torn, rooted to the spot. He felt cold, then burning hot. Anger was clawing at his insides, screaming for him to beat both footballers to a bloody, comatose pulp.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He roared.

Azimio and Karofsky noticed him at last. Azimio still looked confused, shaking his head slightly and shrugging, mouth open as though he wanted to talk but didn't know what to say. Karofsky, though, had no such trouble.

"What's it look like?" He grinned. "Just putting this loser in her place. There a problem with that?" He gave Rachel a shove. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to make her hit the lockers with a bang. Rachel kept her eyes firmly on the ground, and if she hadn't given a tiny flinch, it would have looked like she didn't react at all.

At the shove, Puck saw red. Literally, his vision seemed to go crimson for a second, and before he knew it he was charging at Karofsky. Catching him around the waist in a full-on tackle, he sent him crashing to the floor, and immediately started sending sledgehammer punches to his face.

"So you're picking on girls now, huh?" Puck snarled between blows. "What is it you're trying to compensate for? You're so desperate you'll shove a girl around and rip her clothes? You're fucking _nothing_, Karofsky!"

He would have gladly kept punching him, but he felt hands wrap around his arm, and pull him back with surprising strength. Thinking it was a teacher, or Azimio, Puck whipped around with every intention of laying a beat-down on whoever dared interrupt him. He was met by brown eyes, huge with fear, and Rachel tugging on his arm.

"Noah, stop!" She was shouting. Pulling himself free from her grip, Puck scrambled up, breathing hard. He ran a hand over his head as he looked at Karofsky, who was pulling himself upright. The asshole's lip had burst, his eye was already swelling up, and his nose was bleeding. Good. He knew it wasn't bad, but it looked terrible and must have felt worse. Karofsky had definitely got the message.

Azimio stepped forward, and Puck glared at him, expecting another fight. However, the jock simply hauled Karofsky up by the collar, and pulled his friend away without a word.

When the two were out of sight, silence fell.

Puck expected Rachel to be the first to break it, with some dumb rant about how violence was never the answer, but she said nothing. He sent a glance her way, and saw she'd picked up her torn cardigan, hugging it to herself like a comfort blanket.

"Hey, Berry. You okay?" He extended a hand, intending to give her a comforting touch on the shoulder, but she shied away.

"Fine, thank you." Rachel refused to make eye contact, stepping back and rubbing at her jaw unconciously. "I should go clean myself up." She paused for a moment, her face falling. "I don't have any clean clothes. I always bring a spare set, so that when I..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence for Puck to know what she was talking about. The almost-daily slushies were something Rachel couldn't seem to escape. They used to happen to all the Glee club, but the jocks had eased up on everyone else. When Mercedes and Kurt joined the Cheerios, they got to know some of the popular kids, which gave them some immunity. Everybody knew that Artie was Puck's friend, since he was helping keep Puck out of juvie, so Artie was spared. Tina was dating a footballer, so she was safe. That only left Rachel, who got the worst end of the deal no matter what she did.

Puck felt his blood boil as he thought about it. Finn, Jesse, the bullies, the Cheerios, even Glee club, even __him__... why did Rachel have to take shit from everyone? Sometimes she was so loud and so confident looking, he forgot how much of a hard time she had.

He shrugged off his varsity jacket, placing it gently around her shoulders. She finally looked him in the eye, gazing at him like no one had ever done anything so nice for her, and she wasn't sure whether or not he was joking. She opened her mouth, and he could tell what she was going to ask before she spoke.

"Yes, I'm sure, you can wear it. I don't mind. Just take the damn jacket, Berry." She gave him the tiniest of grateful smiles, pulling the jacket around herself, and he fought the urge to put his arm around her. Her make-up was running from her eyes, and he didn't know if it was because of the slushie or because of tears. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. She looked pathetic, with her wet hair, her torn clothes, her running make-up – there was no way he was letting her stay here. The whole school would eat her alive or laugh their asses off if they could see her like this.

"Screw this place," he said. "I'll give you a ride home. I've got baby wipes in my truck, if you want to, you know, clean off and stuff."

That, at least, seemed to pull her out of her daze. "Y-you mean cut school? Noah, I can't. I-I-I have a 4.0 average to keep, a-and perfect attendance, and-"

"Well, you're not still out here in the hall because you were planning to go to class, am I right? Come on," he insisted, sticking out his arm for her to loop hers through. How was it he'd never noticed how cute it was, when she got nervous or passionate and started to stutter a bit?

Tentatively, like he might pull away and laugh at any moment, she linked her arm with his. As they walked, she rested her head lightly on his arm. "You used 'compensate' in a sentence," she muttered quietly.

He rolled his eyes, feeling the impulse to laugh. "I'm a complex guy, babe. There's more than one side to me." And maybe, she would be the one to find that out.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>It's like 6am, I can't sleep, and I'm not quite sure how to end this chapter. I know not a lot happened in terms of story progression, but at least you got a rare glimpse into the mind of the mighty Puckzilla, right? I just wanted to write about what Puck was doing when it all went down. I've got most of my ideas together for the next chapter, so another update should be coming soon. As always, reviews are very much appreciated!<strong>**


	4. Dare You To Use Tongue

**I know the Puckleberry is going pretty slow and feels a bit one-sided, but this is Rachel: the queen of drama and dreamer of epic, fated romance – precisely why I love her. It might take a while for her to shake her infatuation with Finn. ****Who knows, though, maybe she'll start to come around. ;)**

**I don't actually hate Finn. He's definitely a hypocritical asshole and he shouldn't be with Rachel IMHO, but he's an impressionable 16/17(?) year old in an environment that fosters immaturity(a high school filled with fickle, mean people). I suppose we can't expect him to be totally mature. I'm just sort of calling him out on his... douchebaggery, because I wish Rachel would on Glee. We'll be seeing more of Karofsky as we go on, too. Sorry if his actions disturb anyone, but I'm drawing on real-life experiences I've had with someone a bit like him. As always, please review and feel free to suggest situations you'd like to see/people you'd like to come in/etc! :)**

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>As Noah drove her home, Rachel still couldn't rid herself of her fear. A part of it was from her cutting school – something she'd never done before. She felt exposed, like she was wearing a neon sign that said "TRUANT". She half-expected to get a furious phone call from her dads at any minute. At one point, a police car cruised past, and she actually ducked down from sight. What if they saw she was of school age, and not in school, and pulled her over? Would they arrest her? She couldn't have a criminal record if she hoped to be a world-famous Broadway star by the time she was twenty five.<p>

The _other_ side of her fear was much more sinister, and grounded in reality. The way Karofsky had looked at her, torn her clothes, grabbed her face... Rachel was ashamed to say she was still shaking. In all her years of being bullied, she'd never felt fear quite like that. Looking into the jock's eyes had told her without a doubt he was capable of more.

Dave Karofsky was dangerous. He'd threatened Kurt's life, after all, and with a sinking feeling Rachel considered that she might be his new target. Slushies and name-calling she could take, but she'd never had to deal with real violence. What if he tried something like that again, and nobody rescued her? The faculty meant well(with the possible the exception of Coach Sylvester), but they either couldn't or wouldn't do anything without concrete proof.

Rachel chanced a quick glance at Noah, who, after handing her baby wipes to clean herself off with and grunting, "Here", had remained silent throughout the car ride. This could have been out of consideration for her – she didn't want to talk about the incident, for fear of crying – but she suspected it was due to his anger. His face had been set in a scowl for the whole journey.

Catching sight of his knuckles, which were strained from his tight grip on the steering wheel, Rachel gasped.

"Noah – your hands!" They were cut, red, and bleeding, like he had been punching a sandstone wall rather than a person.

Glancing down at his knuckles, Noah shrugged and flexed his fingers. "S'nothing," he said gruffly. "Karofsky's got a thick skull, is all." They had reached Rachel's house and he pulled over, bringing the car to a gentle stop.

"Thank you for the ride, Noah. And – thank you, for coming to my rescue. It was very chivalrous of you, and I appreciate it very much." With that said, Rachel had every intention of jumping out the car, running into her house, curling up in bed and crying to show tunes. She needed to forget this horrible day, and lose herself in the world of musicals. The world _she _would join one day, once she finally escaped this suffocating town.

Just as she grasped the handle to open the door, she felt Puck's hand on her arm, stopping her.

"What happened to your face, Berry?" he demanded, studying her with so much intensity it made her drop her gaze. She saw his scowl deepen, and she couldn't help taking a quick look in the sun-guard mirror, wincing at what she saw. It had hardly been over half an hour since the Karofsky incident, but already faint blue bruises were forming on her jaw.

"Nothing!" She shot out, with conviction so strong it was obviously a lie. She didn't even know why her first instinct was to lie – she was hardly bursting with a desire to protect Karofsky. In some part of her mind, she had convinced herself to keep quiet, in case the bully found out she told someone, and came down on her even harder. Noah jerked his eyebrows up dubiously, and repeated the question. When he didn't look away after several seconds, she sighed.

"Before you interrupted that Neanderthal, he..." she wasn't entirely sure how to continue. "He told me he wanted a kiss, and grabbed my face. I suppose he had a tighter grip than he realised," she tried to finish airily.

Noah was not fooled, and she saw growing fury on his face. "He hurt you? He's the one that ripped your top?"

"I – yes, but it probably wasn't deliberate." Who was she kidding? Karofsky had meant everything he did, and he enjoyed her terror. With a snarl, Noah smacked the steering wheel, making the horn blare.

"That's bullshit, Berry, and you know it! I knew Karofsky was an ass, but I _never _thought he'd put his hands on a girl. You don't do that shit. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip his face off. I'll get all the guys in Glee, and we'll teach him a fucking lesson. You're going to go to Figgins, too, and get his ass thrown out the school. There's no way they can keep him in now." His chest was heaving, and he hands were curled into fists. She knew that when Puck got protective, he could get violent.

Trying to calm him, Rachel put a tentative hand on his arm. "That's very sweet, Noah, but I'd rather just forget about the whole thing. Please don't do anything. I won't have you sent back to Juvenile Detention on my account. If you attack him and get caught, that's exactly what will happen. If he gets expelled... his parents are rich. They have influence. He'll end up at a different school, and do to some other girl what he's been doing to me."

Noah stilled, and instantly Rachel knew she'd chosen the wrong words. "What he's been _doing_ to you? This isn't the first time he's pulled something like this?" he asked, dangerously quiet.

Rachel bit her lip uncertainly. She hadn't mentioned to anyone, because who would care? Rachel Berry getting bullied was hardly big news. Yet there was something different about the way Karofsky had been coming after her, like he was putting all his bullying energy into tracking her down. It had been like that for a few weeks.

"Since Kurt almost had him expelled..." she started slowly.

"He's left Kurt alone, yeah. But?" Noah prompted impatiently.

"I suppose he felt like he needed a new target, since harassing Kurt was off the table. So he... picked me. In a manner of speaking. Today was the first time anything quite like that happened, but he's just... always been there. Shouting things, throwing slushies, shoving. The usual high school pleasantries." She smiled bitterly.

Noah was still looking at her, she could see it out the corner of her eye, but she continued to look studiously out of the windscreen, like they were having a regular conversation.

Taking a moment to digest this, Noah let out an exasperated breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Why didn't you tell anyone? You know the Glee club would've had your back. You're one of us, Berry."

"Am I?" she answered cynically, not even trying to disguise the bitterness in her voice. "Besides, I didn't want to bother any of you with it. Everyone has their own burdens to bear, without me forcing on the weight of mine."

It struck her that she was being slightly melodramatic and probably unfair – Noah had always been there for her. At least, after they dated, he had never thrown another cruel shout or slushie her way, and made a point of protecting her as much as he could. She felt a rush of gratitude towards him for it, giving him a small, genuine smile. "I know you want to help, Noah, and I'm truly thankful for it. I'd just rather not talk about this anymore. I'm certain that this problem will resolve itself over time."

Noah shook his head, "I'll leave it for now, but I'm not leaving it for good. Karofsky needs to learn that shit like this is not okay."

Another silence fell, but it was oddly comfortable. Remembering she still had on his jacket, Rachel moved to take it off, and found herself surprisingly reluctant. It was warm, and smelled like his aftershave, and just like _him_. No boy had ever given her their jacket before, and now she understood what was so appealing about it. There was a strangely safe sensation that came from wearing the oversized garment, knowing the boy who gave it to you did it out of kindness.

Finn had never given her his jacket – discounting the one time he'd tried to cover her new clothes with his hoodie, because he thought other men were "personifying" her. He would never have given her his varsity jacket to wear in front of other people. Even after all the time they dated, Finn had always seemed slightly embarrassed by her.

"I'm so sorry for ever being one of those guys," Noah blurted out, interrupting her thoughts, like he had been trying to hold it in. "Really I am. I wish I could make it up to you. It just makes me sick, thinking I was one of the dicks that made you feel like this. I'm such an asshole." By this point he was almost muttering, and it was his turn to avoid eye contact.

Affection for him spread through her chest, and she touched his arm again, this time with gentle reassurance. "You are not an _asshole_, Noah Puckerman. You are a good man, and good friend, and I'm very glad to know you." The look he gave her was so grateful, it broke her heart. He was genuinely amazed that someone thought he was a good person.

After a moment, a grin broke out on his face, tinted with mischief. Rachel felt her cheeks redden, and she hardly knew why. "What?"

"Rachel Berry just said 'asshole'."

A smile crept onto her face at his amusement. "I usually object to such language, but it was a direct quote and I couldn't think of an appropriate synonym to use as a substitute."

"Nah, you don't need to bother with any _synonyms_. I've never heard you cuss before. It was actually kinda hot," Noah winked, and Rachel started to feel flustered for reasons she couldn't explain.

"Well, I should go. Thank you again for the ride, and for saving me." She babbled. If she didn't know any better, she might have thought she saw a knowing smile work its way onto Noah's face.

"You coming back for Glee?" He asked casually.

Rachel felt her heart drop at the thought – seeing Finn, facing the club that hated her, going back into that school. That was not something she could face, not today.

"I think I'll stay home. Corn syrup takes quite a while to wash out of hair as long and luxurious as mine," she tried, in an attempt at a joke. Well, almost an attempt at a joke – it was true. It usually took her hair five washes before she got all the slushie out.

This seemed to throw Noah off, and he gave a small laugh. "Seriously? You haven't missed a Glee practice in... ever. Come on, Rach, you know we can't get stuff done without your _excellent organisational skills_ and your _star talent_."

She winced as the memory of the day before came back to her, and her cheeks burned again, this time in humiliation over Timetablegate. She didn't need Noah mocking her about it, too.

"I'm glad you find my being ostracised such a great source of humour," she said bitingly, preparing to leave the truck. "At least that makes one of us."

"Berry! Calm down, I wasn't laughing at you." he said hurriedly. "I'm serious, it'll just be weird not having you there, is all. We didn't give you that MVP for nothing, right?" Rachel made no response, but visibly relaxed, and he appeared to take that as encouragement. "Look, if you're not coming back for Glee, then you're coming out tonight. It's a Friday night, and there's no way I'm letting you sit at home alone."

Rachel was biting her lip again, a nervous habit of hers. She didn't know what exactly Puck had planned for her, but it could be nothing good. "Coming out to where? You're not going to get me to do something illegal, are you?"

Puck snorted. "There's the option of doing something illegal, but you get to choose. Sam's having a party at his house. His parents are on holiday, or on business, or in jail, or someshit. I wasn't listening. Bottom line is, he's got a free house, and booze. That's enough to convince me."

"The illegal part is the alcohol, right?" she asked.

"No, Berry, the illegal part is where we rob a bank and then hotwire a getaway car." Rachel gaped at him, believing for a moment that he was serious, until he clapped a hand to his forehead.

"Yes, the illegal part is the alcohol. I know you said you were never gonna drink again, but it's all about the tolerance. You just gotta know what to drink, how to drink it, and when to stop. Trust me, I'll keep you safe, babe." he smirked at her.

A fluttering feeling started in her stomach when he called her 'babe', but she hid her confusion about it by talking. "I don't know..."

If she went to the party, it would have a lot of people she didn't know. It would also have a lot of people who didn't like her, and some who bullied her. Karofsky wouldn't be there(he wasn't Sam's best friend, after the Kurt incident), but Finn definitely would. With Quinn. Since Quinn was making such an effort to be Prom Queen, she would never miss an opportunity to be seen with her quarterback boyfriend at social events.

"I'm not takin' no for an answer, my little Jewish amigo," Noah grinned(why was he so caught up on the Jew thing?). "I'll be picking you up at eight."

Rachel felt like she would rather have her vocal chords removed than go to a party that Finn was at. Why would she want to walk around by herself in a house vibrating with tacky hip-hop music, while everyone else had a roaring good time? "I don't have anything to wear," she offered lamely.

"Wear whatever the hell you want. You always look good, B," Noah said offhandedly, drumming the steering wheel and conveniently not looking her way(thank god, because he would have seen the deep blush on her face). "For the record, you looked smokin' hot today, but I sort of dig the knee-highs. Saying that, you can _so_ rock a pair of heels."

The blush on Rachel's face intensified, and she studied her hands. "I don't want to go alone," she said quietly.

Noah was looking at her again, but once again she looked steadfastly elsewhere. "Not a problem. I'll be your escort. Won't leave your side, if you want. Someone's gotta make sure you don't get too drunk, right? Come on, Bez-meister. It'll be fun," he pressed.

Bez-meister? Like Berry-meister? The idiotic nickname made an involuntary grin light up her face.

"I'll think about it," she conceded in a ladylike fashion. "Thank you once again, Noah, but I have to go before the food colouring in the slushie stains my skin. Here's your jacket," she added, starting to take it off.

"Keep it," Noah said unexpectedly. "I'll get it back tonight. Call it insurance. You'll have to come, that way, otherwise you'll have to deal with the guilt of poor me being cold without his jacket."

Rachel rolled her eyes and got out the truck, trying to hide her gratitude for the small gesture. "Goodbye, Noah. I'll see you in school on Monday," she teased.

"See you at 8pm sharp tonight," he corrected her with a wink. He waited until she was safely in the house before he drove off – she heard his engine start when she closed the door behind her.

An inexplicable smile was on her face as she climbed the stairs to shower, and no matter what she tried, she couldn't get it off.

* * *

><p>.<p>

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><p>By the time 8pm rolled around, Rachel was feeling sick with nerves. She checked her reflection anxiously for what must have been the twentieth time in as many minutes, still not happy with what she saw. Then again, when was she ever happy with what the mirror showed her?<p>

Unable to think of anything inventive to wear, she had stuck to what she knew – knee-high socks, a skirt, and a plain blue sweater with three quarter length sleeves. Thinking ahead, she had chosen a sweater without an animal print on it. She didn't want to give anyone ammunition to abuse her with, if she could help it.

Hearing a knock at the door, she gulped. That had to be Noah, here to give her a ride. Why did it feel like she was going to her execution, instead of a party? Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself.

When she was a world-renowned star, she wouldn't possibly have time to go to parties and get drunk. She'd be too busy rehearsing, flashing brilliant smiles at the paparazzi, and sorting through all the lead-role opportunities being thrown at her. She might as well get these rite-of-passage high school parties over with now.

Hurrying downstairs and grabbing the can of mace she kept by the hall window in case of psychopaths, she opened the door to Noah, who was looking ultra casual(and, not that she'd admit it, ultra-attractive) in jeans and a dark green tshirt that showed off his physique.

"Hey, Berry," he grinned. "You look good,"

Feeling flustered once more, Rachel couldn't help but notice he didn't need to be prompted to tell her she looked good. He said it because he thought it, not because it was expected of him. She thanked him, and told him he looked handsome himself. It must have been a trick of the light, but she could have _sworn_ she saw the faintest blush in his cheeks.

"Uh... what's with the mace?" Noah asked uncertainly. "I didn't say something rude, did I?"

Rachel smiled brightly at him. "Not at all. I keep the mace by my door in case I get any unwelcome visitors. I know we live in Lima, Ohio and the crime rate is not exactly in the stratosphere, but one can never be too careful when it comes to personal safety. It really is just the sensible thing to do."

"Or the crazy thing to do," he said, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head, amused. "Whatever. You ready to go?"

Rachel nodded, picking up his jacket from the coat rack in the hall, before stepping out and locking the door. While they walked, she offered him his jacket, and was surprised when he shook his head.

"It's kind of cold out," he said casually. "You can wear it if you want. It looks pretty cute on you, anyway."

He had to be colder than her, in just a tshirt. The gesture touched her more than she could explain, and she smiled when Noah pulled the jacket around her in a very gentlemanly way. She was still extremely nervous about the party, but somehow knowing Noah was there to look out for her reassured her everything would be fine.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>If you had told Rachel the year before that she would be here – on a Friday night, going to a member of the football team's party, <em>wearing Noah Puckerman's jacket...<em> she probably would have laughed out loud or went to Principal Figgins, convinced you were on drugs. The whole thing felt very surreal.

Walking up the driveway to Sam's impressive house, they could hear the music blaring out. Shouts and laughter echoed round from the back garden, and a few people were littered around the front, smoking and drinking from the cliché red plastic cups. She'd never been anywhere like this before.

Rachel's nerves got the better of her, and she nearly turned to run. As if he sensed this, without turning around, Noah put out his arm to link hers with. Was he really willing to be seen at a party, in front of all these people, linking arms with Rachel Berry? She knew she was unpopular, and even talking to her in the halls could bring someone's popularity down.

"Just take my friggin arm, Berry. I can practically hear your little brain overthinking it," Noah said, not unkindly. A grin spread across Rachel's face and she put her arm through his, resting her head on him momentarily in a little burst of happiness. Suddenly aware of their proximity, she straightened up just as Noah knocked the door and it swung open.

Sam stood at the open door, his face flushed and his blond hair messy. "Hey, guys," he drawled, swaying slightly where he stood. "Come on in! Party's well underway!"

Rachel wondered if the footballer had been drinking for a while, or he just had an exceptionally low tolerance for alcohol. Sam gave another loose smile, then walked away, leaving the door hanging open. Ever the polite one, Rachel shut the door, tightening her grip on Noah's arm and looking around uneasily.

"Shall we... go get a drink? I'll be sticking to water tonight, since alcohol wreaks untold havoc on pristine vocal chords like mine," she spouted nervously. Noah laughed quietly, and walked with her to the kitchen, through a room full of people she didn't know. They seemed to know her, or at least they knew him, judging by the derisive looks they were giving them.

"Relax, mi amigo. One drink won't kill that talent of yours. Just take it easy, make sure you pour your own drinks, and don't leave your drink down if you're going somewhere."

Confused, Rachel frowned up at him. "Why? You mean I have to take it with me if I want to go to the bathroom? That seems highly unsanitary."

Noah rolled eyes eyes. "Some douchebag might put something in your drink while you're not looking. An ecstasy or somethin' if you're lucky, or it might be worse, like a roofie." Noting her horrified expression, he gave her a little shake of reassurance. "Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen to you while I'm about. Just be careful, is all I'm saying."

Rachel never expected to be getting life lessons from Noah Puckerman, of all people. "You mean there are... _drugs_ at this party?" she gasped, flabbergasted by his casual attitude towards it. Her hand still on his arm, she felt his muscles flex as he shrugged.

"Maybe, could be. I don't have any, if that's what you're wondering, and I don't expect you to take any either. I stay away from that shit. Just relax", he repeated, breaking away for a second to open them both a beer. "Drink this however slow you want. You're gonna be fine."

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Three hours, two beers and three weak vodka and cokes later, Rachel knew she was drunk. Her face was warm, and she was talking to people she didn't know. Sure, she was getting some odd looks as she spouted off about her love of Broadway, but it didn't seem to matter that much to her.<p>

Noah had excused himself to go to the bathroom, assuring her he would be right back. When Rachel thought about it, she realised that he'd been gone some time. Twenty minutes, or half an hour, maybe. Saying a hasty goodbye to her new "friend"(read: the person she had trapped with a rant about Wicked), she stood up a bit unsteadily to search for her escort.

Sticking her head into the kitchen, she saw Mercedes and Tina, who she had greeted earlier. No Noah. She walked to the downstairs bathroom and knocked on the door lightly, answered by Santana's voice: "Go the fuck away!", followed by the unmistakable sounds of throwing up. No Noah. She scanned the hallways and the garden. No Noah. Since the upstairs was supposed to be off-limits, she didn't immediately think to check there, but when she saw a giggling couple head up to the bedrooms she thought she might as well look.

Manoeuvring around several partygoers, she climbed the stairs. "Nooooah," she called out, laughing for reasons that were beyond her. "Where are yoooou?"

She tripped just as she reached the top of the wooden stairs, falling hard on to her knees. Ordinarily, a fall like that would have hurt, but the pain barely registered in her drunk mind. Snorting with laughter, she climbed to her feet, and was surprised to find a soft hand on her arm, helping her up.

It was none other than one Finn Hudson.

"Rachel, are you drunk?" he frowned at her, his hand still on her arm. He could hardly talk. He didn't look too sober himself. "You know you can't handle your drink. What are you doing walking about wasted?" After a pause, he frowned at her outfit. "Whose jacket are you wearing? Is that... Puck's?"

She could see him colour with jealousy. Feeling tears, anger and blind drunkenness jockeying for position inside her, Rachel let drunk win.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Finny-boy," she slurred slightly, prodding him in the chest. "You've proved over and over you don't care about me, right? Why would you, right? I'm just Rachel Berry, with the annoying personality and the big Jew nose, right? I'm not Quinn Fucking Fabray, with her stupid blonde hair and her stupid perfect nose and her fucking cheerleader pom-poms." She squinted angrily at him, part of her feeling horrified that she'd dropped the f-bomb _twice_ in one sentence, and part of her feeling twisted pride.

Finn's puppy-dog eyes came into full effect, and apparently her words had made him sad, rather than angry – not what she planned. "You know I think you're perfect, Rach," he said quietly.

To her shock, his hand came up to her face, and he started leaning towards her.

She had pictured this a million times since they broke up – he would realise his mistake, that he'd let his perfect girl go. They would kiss tenderly, so relieved to have found their way back to one another. She felt her eyes close and her lips part slightly as he brought his face to hers.

And then, the moment she'd waited for. He was kissing her, she was back in his arms. He tasted like beer, but she didn't care. Now that she thought about it, she didn't feel the euphoric plunge in her stomach she'd expected. She didn't feel electrocuted. But, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the man in front of her, wondering why she'd seen a flash of hazel eyes and a mohawk in her mind. She was with Finn, like her heart desired so desperately. It was a perfect moment. Until -

"Finn?"

Quinn Fabray's voice was so icy, you could have chilled drinks with it. Rachel's eyes snapped open, and Finn pushed her away. Literally _pushed_her away from him, turning to his girlfriend. "Quinn!" he yelped guiltily. "I thought you were asleep."

"I can see that," she hissed, staring straight at Rachel. "What the hell are you doing kissing my boyfriend, midget?"

Before Rachel could open her mouth, Finn spoke up. "She kissed me, Quinn," he blurted. "I didn't have time to... stop her, or anything. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Rachel stared at him, wide-eyed. Finn wouldn't look at her, but he was staring at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Quinn was looking at Rachel expectantly.

Something broke in Rachel then, and even in her inebriated state, she knew Finn had crossed the invisible line. Even for her. She had forgiven him for so many things, and a part of her had thought she always would. It was worth it, if she loved him and he loved her back. But this... she was disgusted with him.

"Yeah – I kissed him, but he'd rather kiss his precious girlfriend." she spat, the barefaced lie sour in her mouth. Finn, shocked and relieved, turned to her, but she had already started to walk away down the hall, continuing her search. "You know what?" she tossed over her shoulder, "It doesn't even matter. Cause I have someone _else."_

She wasn't sure what possessed her to say that, but as soon as she did, she felt the truth it in. There had always been so much chemistry between her and Noah, but she couldn't help feel that something else was growing there, too.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, Noah burst out of a bedroom down the hall, tangled up in some nameless cheerleader. He was grinning sloppily at her in between kisses, his hands around her waist.

Staring at the two, Rachel felt a bolt of nausea that was completely unrelated to the alcohol in her system. Noah glanced up, his face seeming to fall a bit when he caught sight of her, or did she imagine that? She wasn't hanging around to find out.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>She stormed down the stairs, past an arguing Quinn and Finn, not sure why she was so sad. She didn't have a right to be angry, or sad, but she was. Hadn't she just kissed Finn, after all? She couldn't think.<p>

In the way that upset drunk people do, she believed with all her heart that walking straight out the door and home alone was a good idea. She would have done, if a giggling Mercedes and Tina hadn't caught her around the wrist and dragged her to the converted basement. "Come on, diva, everybody's down here!" they yelled, not noticing her expression.

"Hey, Berry! Wait up!" she heard Noah call from somewhere behind her. Scowling, she sped up, allowing herself to be taken down the stairs into the room.

There were several people she didn't know, but Sam, Mike, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, Kurt's boyfriend Blaine, Artie and Brittany were all there. They all gathered in a circle, as someone crowed "Spin the bottle!"

Mercedes looked at Rachel, clearly drunk. "Come on, Vanilla, you playing?"

Rachel was about to decline, but at that moment, Noah came trailing down the stairs, minus the cheerleader he'd been wrapped up in minutes before. Somehow, that made the decision for her. "Hell yeah I am!" she shouted, and most people there laughed at the completely un-Berrylike thing to say. She ignored them, taking a seat between Brittany and Tina.

Several people spun before it was her turn. Mike spun, and stopped the bottle at Tina. Tina spun, and stopped the bottle at Mike. Kurt spun Tina, and gave her peck on the mouth. Artie spun Mercedes, and the two bravely kissed on the lips – without tongue, of course. Brittany spun Blaine, and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek(surprising everyone, but Brittany said it was because "his eyebrows reminded her the fuzzy caterpillars that keep breaking into her house" - nobody was sober enough to try to make sense of that).

Then, it was Rachel's turn. Puck, who had been sitting on a couch glaring for the whole game, shoved his way into the circle. _As if he has something to be angry about?_ Rachel thought fuzzily. She spun the bottle, and it landed on Sam – who was looking almost too drunk to know where he was. "C'mere, lil' Berry, I'll show you how it's done," he laughed, leaning over to her.

"Dare you to use tongue!" Mercedes shouted, and Rachel rolled her eyes. What was she, 12? Before she could say anything back, she felt Sam's mouth on hers, kissing her softly. He was, as it turned out, a very good kisser. She closed her eyes and felt Sam's tongue flick over her lips. This would be the part where sober Rachel Berry pulled away, but drunk Rachel Berry was angry and hurting and, most of all, drunk.

She put her hand to the side of his neck, deepening the kiss and allowing his tongue into her mouth. Sam reciprocated eagerly, taking the back of her head in his hand and shifting forward. She heard him give a little moan, and had to smile mid-kiss, while the surrounding partygoers started a childish chorus of "ooooh!". Well – all but one of them.

"Isn't that enough?" Noah demanded, and Rachel felt herself being pulled back forcefully from Sam, back into the circle. "You forget you're with Santana, Evans?" he growled.

Sam, however, was too far gone to care. "That was awesome," he said goofily, rubbing his hand over his head. Without further comment, he stood up, stumbled over to the sofa and lay down, falling asleep immediately.

"Way to ruin the game, Puckerman," someone complained, "What's your problem?"

Noah glared at them. "I just thought it was _spin the bottle_, not _Berry fucks Evans in the middle of the damn party,_" he groused.

Rachel, for her part, was outraged. "Well, why don't we play a new game, called Mind Your Own Business, _Puck_?" she sniffed, snatching Sam's tequila shot from where he had left it, and downing it in one.

The liquid burned a path down her throat, and she tried not to shudder. People actually drank this stuff and enjoyed it? Figuring this was as good a time as any for a storm out, she got to her feet and beat a path up the stairs. She was heading straight to the kitchen for more alcohol. F- Noah Puckerman, F- Finn Hudson, F- them all! Rachel Berry was going to have a damn good time without them.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Long chapter is looong, I know. I just wanted to write about most of the party from Rachel's POV, and I couldn't be bothered putting it into a new chapter. If I did that, I'd have to do Puck's POV next chapter, and do Rachel's party view after that, because I'm sort of OCD about keeping the pattern: Puck one chapter, Rachel the next, and so on. I've done a quick spell check, but I don't have time right now to grammar check it with a fine-tooth comb, and I just want to put the chapter up. Sorry if you notice any stupid errors, like "and and" etc. <strong>

**I know Drunk!Rachel is totally overdone in fic, but come on – Rachel Berry drunk, what's not to love? I just had to write it. Next chapter should be coming soon, it's mostly done already!**


	5. Always Saving Me

**Thank you all so much for the reviews/faves/alerts, again! I still have no idea how long I want this fic to be. I just got a niggling idea for the first chapter, and now I'm sort of winging it. I guess I'll just stop it when things wind down naturally. And for anyone wondering why Puck's being an ass... maybe you'll see understand it a little better once you see things from his POV :)**

_{Puck's POV, from the start of the party}_

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>He'd never admit it, but Puck was sort of enjoying having Berry on his arm, even if she did spend most of her time running her mouth. He liked the way her hand didn't even get halfway around his bicep, and the way she rested her head against his shoulders sometimes, and the way her hair smelled sort of like vanilla. So he liked the smell of her shampoo, all right? It didn't make him a pussy or anything.<p>

When he had to explain to her that she couldn't leave her drink anywhere, he realised just how naïve she was. Shit, she had no idea about drink spiking or anything like that. He'd have to spend this whole party looking after her, because she'd probably do something stupid if he left her to her own devices. How could someone in high school be so completely clueless? It baffled him.

What baffled him even more was that he didn't really mind the idea of spending the party with her.

He handed Berry a beer, and tried not to snicker at the way she held it, like it was some grenade that might explode at any second. "Drink this however slow you want. You're gonna be fine," he soothed. Berry nodded, and took a tiny sip.

She pulled a face, gasping. "This is horrid, Noah! It tastes like... like fizzy feet!" He let it slide that she called him Noah, _again_(she was the only person who could get away with that, besides his ma), and offered her his arm again. What? She was nervous as fuck, anyone could tell. He was just manning up and helping out a damsel in distress.

"Trust me, little Jew: the more you drink it, the less you notice the taste. Walk with me, we'll go grab a seat in the living room." He could tell by the way she hesitated that she didn't want to – he was pretty sure at least a third of the people in the lounge had bullied her at some point. The major difference was that this time, she was with Puckerone. They'd just assume that he was trying to get laid, and steer clear.

There were four couches in Sam's living room, and several chairs. It was a huge room – seriously, how rich was this kid? Puck's entire house would probably fit into Sam's bathroom.

Sauntering over to the three-seater couch, Puck jerked his head sideways at the three kids sitting on it. _Move_. He didn't even have to say it out loud for them to get the message. Hastily standing up, the kids obediently moved away without a word of complaint. Smirking in a self-congratulatory way, he was feeling pretty good about himself, until he felt a slap on his arm.

"Noah! That was horribly rude! Call them back and offer them their seat back at once!"

He couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow and giving Berry his most withering look. "That's your problem, Berry. If someone misses a freaking e flat, you're all over giving them a lecture. But some jerk tosses a slushie in your face or calls you a loser, and you lie right down and take it. You gotta stand up for yourself where it matters. Show people you mean business."

Rachel stared right back at him stoically. "I simply refuse to give them the satisfaction of reacting to their childish behaviour. Besides, all this adversity will only serve to inspire the heart-rending emotion I'll emanate in my future Broadway performances."

He raised his eyebrow even higher, trying to stare her out, but she wasn't backing down. There was something funny about determination that big in a person that little. Before he could stop himself, he was smiling, an honest-to-god smile instead of his usual smirk.

For some reason, this threw Berry off, and her eyelashes fluttered for just a second. Not giving himself time to think about that, or why he felt like he'd received a pleasant punch in the stomach, he flopped onto the couch... pulling Berry with him. She squealed, her cheeks red as she struggled upright and gave him another slap on the leg. "You're a pig, Noah Puckerman."

He could tell she didn't mean it.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Three hours, six beers, and four tequila shots later, Puck knew he was drunk. He had actually been talking to Rachel about Broadway, and enjoying it. She was drunk too, by the look of it. She kept leaning casually against him, her face was flushed, her eyes were bright, and she kept smiling. Like, <em>really<em> smiling, not her showface. He told her he waited for her in the choir room to work on his singing, and she was still apologising profusely 10 minutes later.

"I'm _sooo_ sorry, Noah," she insisted with drunken conviction, "I had no idea. If I had any idea I would have been there, 'cause you're a good singer. No, really, you're like, a _really_ good singer. And I don't just say that." She stopped talking for a moment to hiccup, and Puck took his chance to try to stop her rant.

"Don't worry about it, babe," he shrugged. "Some other time, I'm down." Why did he just say that? He really wasn't down with getting shouted at by Berry, just because he didn't want to learn how to hit a note he'd never needed and probably never would. But it was too late; she was already grinning at him like he'd given her a million dollars.

She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he hugged back automatically. He may or may not have given her an extra squeeze, but it was just because he was drunk. It wasn't as if it's because he wanted to hug her, or anything stupid like that.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" she babbled excitedly into his neck(he tried hard to ignore her lips against his skin). She broke away, giving him another sunny smile. She was definitely starting to slur her speech by this point. "See, that's why you're awesome, Noah. You're always good to me. You know, I love you, Noah Puckerman."

He felt a little rush of happiness at this, but he pushed it aside.

He swallowed, reminding himself of how much Berry had drank – well, it was a lot, for a midget who'd only drank one time before this. "I know – everybody loves the Puckster. Chicks, cougars, babies, hamsters... it's natural," he smirked, deciding to gloss over it and not do anything DrunkBerry would regret. Berry just scoffed, running a hand over her hair, messing it up. It looked pretty hot.

Wait, what was he thinking? He literally shook his head a bit – this was drunk Rachel Berry. He couldn't put any moves on her when she was drunk.

Why did he care, though? It's not as if a girl being a little drunk ever stopped him before.

_Because you don't want to do that to someone you actually care about_. The answer came from his head out of the blue, and he scowled. That was interesting. And by interesting, he meant what the fuck?

"...You know who I don't love, though?" Berry mused, and he made himself tune back in. "Finn Hudson."

Suddenly, Puck felt irritated.

"I mean, he said he loved me, but he's... he always..." Berry tailed off, starting to look sad. Oh, hell no, he was not dealing with weepy-drunk-moan-about-Finn-Fucking-Hudson Rachel.

"Hey look, I think that girl just said something about wanting to sing a song, but she's got nobody to sing it with!" he interrupted. It was too easy – the words were barely out of his mouth, and Rachel was at attention, with that freaky intense look she got whenever music came up.

"I gotta go to the bathroom. Back in a few," he muttered, but Berry was hardly even paying attention. She was already talking to the scapegoat about Wicked, and how Finn, her ex-but-soon-to-be-not-ex boyfriend, was so talented. Keeping the frown off his face with massive effort, Puck left the room.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>He tried the downstairs bathroom, but Santana was in there throwing up. There was a queue of about ten people for the main bathroom – fuck that. He wasn't waiting that long. If he remembered right, Sam mentioned his parents having an en-suite bathroom, and since nobody was in the bedroom, he figured he might as well go for that.<p>

Walking towards the room, he ran a hand over his mohawk, frowning. It was always going to be Finn Fucking Hudson. Even though Berry had turned into a sorta kinda friend over the past few months, most of their conversations involved her whimpering about Finn and how perfect he was and how badly she wanted him back. Or maybe about how she wanted to use Puck to make Finn jealous. It was always going to be Golden Boy, best at everything he did. Thinking about this made him unaccountably annoyed.

He used the bathroom and came out, deciding to go back downstairs and rescue the girl he'd thrown Berry at. Berry had probably trapped her into a year-long duet contract, or some stupid shit like that.

"Hey, Puckerman!" someone called. He turned around reluctantly, not really in the mood for a conversation. It was Johnson, one of the jocks from the football team, and one of the people that bullied the Glee kids the most. He knew better than to mess with Puck, though, or to mess with Glee when Puck was around.

"Yeah?" Puck grunted. "Make it quick, Johnson, I don't wanna hang around."

"Saw you're here with Rachel Berry. What - you wanna get back to her?" Johnson smirked. "I know you're only in it to get laid, but good luck cracking that virgin nut, dude."

Puck's eyes narrowed, but Johnson kept talking. "Sure, she's sneaky hot, but she's gotta be the most frigid chick at this school since Quinn Fabray. Before babygate, I mean. Just lemme know if you get any – she's definitely a loser but damn, even all the guys on the team admitted they want a bit of that!"

Puck felt his hands curl into fists. "Shut your mouth, Johnson."

Johnson didn't take the advice. He must have been wasted, because he wasn't talking too clearly and his tact filter was nowhere to be found. "I'm serious, man – those skirts she wears all the time? She's like a slutty librarian. I kinda dig that. Maybe if you just put a bit of duct tape over her mouth to shut up all her talkin', you'd be good to go!"

Puck took a step closer. "Shut. Your fucking. Mouth."

Johnson's eyebrows shot up, and he laughed. "Aw, man, don't tell me you're actually _into _her? Dude, Hudson already tried that, you saw how well that worked out."

"I already tried what?" Finn appeared from nowhere, hearing his name and jumping into the conversation. Fuck, why did he always have to spring up when he wasn't wanted? He was like crabgrass. Or herpes.

"Banging Berry," Johnson said casually, and Finn's eyes widened. "Puck here's got a serious case of the Midget Fever. We were just talking about how he's in looove with her, right Puck?"

Puck was one blink away from knocking both guys out where they stood.

"You like Rachel?" Finn demanded. "Look Puck, why don't you just leave her alone? You already split us up, but she's not gonna sleep with you. Someone like Rachel won't go for a guy like you! Could you just stop with your freaking power plays? Rachel has feelings for me anyway; she's not gonna give you any, so could you just back off? She's too good to get dragged down by you, man, why can't you see that?"

Puck was livid, but what smarted most was that Finn was right. Rachel was smart and determined and going places. He was a Lima Loser. That was really the long and the short of it.

Fuelled by his hurt and his anger, he stepped up to Finn and got right in the quarterback's face. The kid might be freakishly tall, but he was about as coordinated as a ragdoll. Puck had much more experience in fights, and he knew it would be far too easy to take him down.

"Back off, Hudson," he hissed. "I brought her here cause she wanted to see the Glee kids and have a good time, but she didn't wanna be in the same room as _you _in practice. Don't bother getting all jealous and shit, you don't have to worry. I don't like her. You can run back to Quinn without trying to mark your fucking territory."

He was angry, and hurt, and drunk, so when a cheerleader passed by as he was walking away, he gave her his signature grin. Before he knew it, they were lying on a bed making out.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>He couldn't remember her name. She was new to the Cheerios. Leah, or Lacey, or something. She was black-haired, with cat-like blue eyes and pale skin. She didn't smell like vanilla, and she was taller than he'd like, her lips were red, not pink, and her boobs were too big.<p>

Thinking someone's boobs were too big was definitely a first for Puck.

They made out for about ten minutes, and she was trying everything to make it go further. But Puck kept pulling back and noticing that her hair wasn't silky brown, and her eyes weren't wide and dark, and her skin didn't have a hint of olive, and she didn't smell like vanilla. What the fuck was happening to him? He sat up with a groan, pulling a hand down his face in frustration.

"What's the matter, baby?" Whatshername asked, kissing his shoulder. He sighed, looking her in the eye for the first time. It wasn't this chick's fault. Apparently, he'd just grown a conscience.

"Nothin'," he shrugged, getting up and heading to the door. "I just gotta go home. Up early in the morning," he lied.

"Oh, okay!" Whatshername smiled blithely. "I should probably go, too. You wanna leave together?" She was getting up, tailing him like a puppy.

"Nah," he replied shortly. He turned around, and her face had fallen. _Aw, shit_. Emotional drunk chicks were so not worth it.

"It's just that I'm getting a ride from my buddy, so I gotta go find him. Sorry!" he forced a sincere grin, and she seemed to perk up a bit. They were almost in the hall. She took his hands and put them around her waist.

"Will I get to do this again?" she pouted. He couldn't think of a kind way to put it(no), so he kept the grin on his face, giving her another few kisses. It wasn't an answer, right? So he wasn't lying one way or the other. Then, he looked up.

Rachel was watching him. She was clearly even more drunk than she had been when he left, and her expression was... accusing? Hurt? Sad? He couldn't tell. But something about seeing him with this girl didn't sit right for her. He felt a rush of guilt, then he felt defensive. Why did she care who he kissed? What business was it of hers to make him feel guilty?

But thinking about it, he knew he would care if she saw him kissing some guy. He knew it would drive him crazy, although he wasn't quite willing to admit why. Since when did Rachel Berry become someone he _cared_ about? He always kinda liked her... she was quirky. And hot. But this? This was new.

So when she stormed off, he ditched the cheerleader, and followed.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey, Berry! Wait up!" he called, but she didn't answer. She was letting Tina and Mercedes lead her to the basement – it must have been where everyone was. He tried to follow, to talk to her(he really didn't know what about, he just felt like he had to say something) but people kept getting in the way.<p>

By the time he got down to the basement, he just caught Mercedes ask Rachel if she was playing. Playing what? It only took a quick scan round the room to see what. Spin the bottle. He felt immediately uncomfortable.

At that point, Berry noticed he had followed her down, and kept her eyes on him for a long moment before she answered. "Hell yeah I am!" Was she playing some stupid mind game with him, or something? It wasn't gonna work. He threw himself down on the couch, frowning at the circle of people. He was too drunk for this crap.

People started playing, but he wasn't paying attention. He was busy burning a hole into Berry's back. After a few people traded boring kisses and Brittany said something confusing, it was Berry's turn. He couldn't stop himself from jumping up, forcing his way roughly into the circle and ignoring the protests from the people he shoved. What? There were a few douchebag guys here. He just wanted to lessen the odds of her spinning someone that'd try to cop a feel.

The bottle landed on Sam, and he tensed up. He hoped it'd be Kurt, or Blaine(well, maybe not him after the way she made out with him last time), or a girl. No, it had to be the only single guy in Glee. He might have been seeing Santana or something, but that hardly counted.

Sam said something cheesy, and leaned towards Rachel. Puck couldn't look away. When they kissed, he felt an explosion of jealousy like nothing he'd ever felt before.

They were using tongues, and then she was smiling, and Sam was moaning like a little bitch, and looking at them was just making him sick. Her eyes were closed and her eyelashes were so long, and her hair was messy, and her hands looked so small and soft, and she was still wearing _his _jacket, and she looked so fucking perfect apart from the fact that she was kissing someone that wasn't him. That _should've_ been him.

"Isn't that enough?" he ground out, and without thinking he reached towards Rachel, pulling her back into the circle. He growled something about Santana to Guppy Lips, but the kid was too wasted to process it.

"That was awesome," was all he had to say before he staggered off and fell asleep on a couch, and Puck felt like smacking him on the mouth.

Someone moaned at Puck about ruining the game, but he was angry and drunk and hurt, so he snapped something about Berry practically fucking Evans in the middle of the game. Berry didn't take that too well, and told him to mind his own business. She called him Puck. She never called him Puck. He almost winced.

Almost.

He moved to stop Berry when she downed the shot of tequila, but decided against it. She was pretty pissed off, and a pissed off drunk girl was not one you wanted to deal with. Especially when she was pissed off at you, and you were pissed off at her, because you both kissed someone and neither of you had any real right to be pissed off. It was a fucked up situation.

When she stormed off, Puck frowned after her. Fine, let her go get wasted, and go hook up with Finn Hudson, for all he cared.

Although he really hoped she didn't

"Wow, that's bright," chirped Blaine. Puck shot him a glare.

"What's bright?"

"The blinding glare of your testosterone-ridden jealousy," Kurt said matter-of-factly, but not without a knowing smirk. What, so they were finishing each other's sentences now? Great, they were one of _those_ couples.

"Shut your mouth, Prada, I ain't jealous of shit." Puck growled, but there was no real threat behind it.

"Of course not. That's why you looked like you were gonna punch someone stupid when Rachel was locking lips with Sam," Mercedes put in airily. The rest of the Glee kids nodded, with varying degrees of amusement on their faces.

"So if you have babies, does that mean they're going to come out with the curly Jewish beards?" Brittany wondered innocently. "Cause they're, like, purebred Jewish."

This seemed to be enough to set everyone off laughing(apart from Puck). He scowled at them, standing up and heading out the room. He passed by Sam, who opened his eyes blearily for a minute when he heard someone walking past.

"Rachel was an awesome kisser, bro!" he grinned sleepily, like he expected a high-five. "Like, whoa. I'm gonna be doing that again."

"Go back to fucking sleep, Trouty Mouth, and shut the hell up," Puck glowered at him.

He ignored the stifled snorts of laughter from the people left in the room, and headed for the game room(yes, Sam had a whole room dedicated to the xbox, and the ps3, and cool shit like that). He was gonna get his Call of Duty on, and do some serious therapeutic killing.

Fuck Rachel Berry, fuck Cheerleaders, fuck them all! He'd have a kick-ass time without them.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>He must have been in the game room for a half an hour before he was interrupted. He played some Black Ops, but after a while he was too wound up, and nearly broke the TV every time he died. Someone stole his care package, and he almost went Hulk. Maybe COD wasn't the best game for him at that time, considering he was still seething.<p>

Opting for something a bit calmer, he decided to fuck with Sam's AC Brotherhood game. Simply because he was pissed off at him, and he could(not that it had anything to do with Rachel or whatever). He spent a good ten minutes spending ingame money on pointless things, sending Sam's Assassins to get killed on impossible tasks, and deliberately messing up missions. When he saved the game to cement the damage he caused, he was feeling a bit better.

And right on cue, like the crabgrass-herpes annoyance he was, Finn walked in. He had that awkward, tail-between-legs look he always had when he wanted to apologise, and he sat down beside Puck, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hey, man," Finn began tentatively, and took Puck's silence as encouragement. "You want a game of Zombies?"

Puck grunted, not a yes or a no, but Finn set up the game and grabbed a controller anyway.

They played in silence, until Finn finally said what he wanted to. Puck figured he wanted to talk while playing the game so it would be less awkward, more manly and distant or shit like that.

"I'm sorry about earlier, man. Look, I just thought that you were trying to hook up with Rachel, and she really doesn't need that right now." Finn said as though he was talking about the weather, eyes fixed on the screen as he launched a grenade into a horde of zombies.

"Whatever," Puck said shortly, stepping around a crawling zombie and slashing it with a knife. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Rachel Berry. "Why aren't you with Quinn, anyway?" There was probably more scorn in his voice than was needed, but Puck felt like he was entitled to be a little pissed.

"She drank too much and fell asleep in one of the bedrooms," Finn shrugged, grabbing a new gun out of a box just in time to blast a zombie dog. "She woke up later, though, at kind of a bad time. I, uh... was kinda kissing Rachel when she saw us."

This was too fucking much for Puck. He paused the game, throwing the controller down and facing Finn. "You _what_?" Why was everyone kissing Rachel? This clown, of all people? The urge to knock Finn out was back with a vengeance. Did Finn even know what he was doing, how much he was screwing with Rachel's head?

"Look, I didn't really have time to think, it just happened... she was saying she was ugly and I didn't care about her, and that's not true! I still care about her, and she just looked really sad, and I couldn't help it! Then Quinn came out so I backed up, and Rachel got upset, and I haven't seen her since." Finn countered defensively.

"What the _fuck_, Finn? Do you even know how much of an asshole you're being to Berry? How upset she still is over all the shit you put her through?"

"What _I_ put her through? She cheated on me!" Finn stood up, yelling now, red in the face, and Puck's temper was flaring even worse than before. He stood up too, getting in Finn's face for the second time that night.

"Yeah, she did, and that was a shitty, stupid thing to do! But then she apologised, and begged you to forgive her, and you said you couldn't forgive her for kissing me! And then after that, you got back with Quinn, even though she's clearly just using you for Prom Queen! So you could forgive Quinn for sleeping with someone else, and getting pregnant, and making you think you're the father, and getting you to give her money for months? But you couldn't forgive Rachel?" Puck spat. Finn was silent, which was just as well, because Puck was nowhere near done. He felt himself getting more and more furious as he continued.

"Nevermind the fact that she forgave you, after you broke up with her 'cause you wanted to be a rockstar and have a fucking threesome with Santana and Britney, right? And she forgave you for lying about being a virgin? Berry's virginity is a big fucking thing to her, asshole, but you were totally okay with letting her think you'd "lose it together". You didn't even own up to it until Santana gave you no choice! And when she was drunk at her party, she was just a little tipsy and wanted to cuddle you, but you were a total douche. Yeah, she was all over you, but you were sober, so it's not as if you just acted like an ass 'cause you were drunk! You could've let her down gently, but nah, you just tell her she's clingy and basically tell her to fuck off."

By this point, Finn had paled, and he didn't say a word. Puck took a deep breath, still not done.

"And don't even get me fucking started on how twisted your cheating logic is. You cheated on Quinn with Rachel. You strung Rachel along for a whole year, and _used_ her to get a better chance of a _scholarship_? She forgave you. You left her for that stupid fucking yearbook picture she cared so much about, and she forgave you. You threw a slushie in Kurt's face after you left Glee, and she forgave you. You dumped her for cheating, but you were cool with cheating on Quinn with Rachel, and getting Quinn to cheat on Sam. Oh, yeah, and let's not forget how you _left her_, in fucking freezing weather, in a Christmas tree lot when you were her only ride home? She walked halfway home crying her fucking eyes out before she called me. After all that, she still thinks she's in love with you and thinks you're the best guy in the freaking world. And to top it all off, you didn't even choose her over your fucking precious reputation. And don't lie, cause that's exactly what you proved when you chose football over Glee. Even I chose her over football, and I only went out with her a week."

He was sneering, angry, and feeling vindictive pride at the verbal beat-down. It had to be the best one he'd ever given. He was _so ready_ for Finn to shout back, say he was out of line, try to throw a punch. He was craving it.

His jaw fell so far open it nearly broke, when Finn sat down instead.

Finn ran a hand over his hair, breathing out. Apparently, nobody had ever put it to him quite like that. "...You're right," he croaked. "You're right. I should've... I should've forgiven her."

What had Puck done? All he wanted was a fight. Everything he said had been true, but he expected Finn to do what he usually did – deny it, and paint himself as the good guy. He felt a sickening lurch in his gut at what Finn said next.

"Do you think I'd... ever have a chance of getting her back?" It was almost a whisper, and barely audible above the loud party music. It was enough for Puck, though, who felt all the anger drain out of him. Of course, Finn would do what he usually did. He'd dumped Rachel, but another guy had stood within ten feet of her, so he decided he wanted her back again... until the next time Quinn Fabray smiled at him. Rachel would go back to him smiling and skipping, obviously. She would always choose Finn, no matter what he did to her... or who else would treat her better.

"You know what?" Puck sighed. "Do whatever the fuck you want. But remember what you said to me. She's too good to get dragged down by people like me – people like _us_."

It didn't feel like there was anything else to say. He shook his head, dragging his hand over his face. This whole night had been one big complicated mindfuck. He came here to get drunk, but somehow, he'd been dragged into a whole mess of feelings and crap he didn't want. Leaving his ex-best-friend in the game room looking bewildered, Puck decided just to go home. The last thing he needed was any more drama from this disaster of a party.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what he'd get.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Could this night get any worse? As if things weren't bad enough, Puck realised he didn't know where his phone was. The last time he had it was when he was on the couch, with Rachel. Fuck, someone had probably stolen it by now.<p>

When his thoughts turned to Rachel, he growled. Yeah, she was annoyed at him, and he was jealous of Sam for kissing her(he wasn't even trying to deny it now), but he had promised he wouldn't let her get too wasted, and he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Last time he saw her, she'd downed a shot of tequila and ran off to get drunk, so he was probably too late to keep that promise. Still, he needed to check that she was okay.

He checked the kitchen – no Berry. He checked the downstairs bathroom – no Berry. He ran up the stairs and checked the bedrooms – no Berry. Finally, he checked the living room. Jackpot. Well, not quite jackpot. Rachel, having drank far too much, was passed out on a couch.

He went cold when he realised that Johnson was beside her, and even as he watched, Johnson unbuttoned her jacket(Puck's jacket), and pulled up her sweater a little, exposing her tanned stomach. Rachel didn't stir.

Johnson whistled, running a hand over Rachel's abdomen. "Nice abs. Hey, guys!" he called out, grinning like he had the best idea in the world, "Who wants to do body shots off Berry?" A loud laugh went up, and several guys jumped to their feet, whistling and leering.

"Me first," smirked Johnson, and reached a hand towards Rachel. Puck guessed it was to pull up her top fully, but he didn't wait to find out.

"Get the fuck off, Johnson," he snarled, running over, grabbing Johnson by the collar and literally throwing him sideways off the couch. He might've be confused as hell by whatever dynamic him and Berry had going on, but one thing he was positive about was that he was a protector. _Nobody_ hurt Berry. She was his... well, he cared about her. More than he'd admit. He'd rip every guy in the room to shreds before they so much as touched her without her permission.

"The fuck, Puckerman? I was just having some fun," Johnson slurred, through the now quiet room, still lying on the floor. He was completely trashed by this point, so it looked like getting up was too much effort. Puck bent down to him, gripping the front of his top.

"Touch Berry again, I'll put you in a coma," he said simply, deadly serious. Letting go of the footballer with disgust, like he had been holding a piece of trash, Puck straightened up and faced Rachel.

He shook her gently, calling her name, but she wasn't waking up. The best her got out of her was an incoherent mumble as she moved her head slightly. He frowned, brushing her hair out of her face, feeling a jolt of... something... when she unconsciously moved her head against his hand. He traced her jaw lightly with his fingers, seeing the bruises Karofsky had given her starting to show through her makeup. It made him angry. He was always at least a bit angry, but the thought of someone hurting her... it was something else entirely. He would do anything to stop her from being hurt. Karofsky would pay for touching Berry - Puck had not forgotten.

"All right, Berry, let's get you out of here," he said softly, moving his hands under her and slowly lifting her up bridal-style. She was soft and warm, and even the tequila couldn't hide the smell of vanilla. He hadn't expected her to be so light.

Absent-mindedly pressing a protective kiss to her head, he considered his options. He was too drunk to drive. Mister Schue told them to call, if they needed a ride, but he didn't want the teacher to see Berry in this state. Public transport was a definite no. He couldn't get in a cab – if _he_ was a cab driver, and he saw a guy like him taking home a passed out drunk girl? He'd think he was trying to rape her or something, and call the cops.

The only option left was walking. Rachel's house was around a half-hour walk from Sam's house. He would literally have to carry her home. Maybe if he wasn't still a bit drunk and feeling macho, he would have found a ride from someone, but as it was the idea seemed doable.

"Alright then, let's get you home'," he muttered to Berry, even though she was passed out, and walked out the door.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>He had been walking for around twenty minutes when Rachel began to stir. His arms were fucking killing him. She might have been light, but carrying around a hundred-odd pounds put a strain on the arms after a while. He was beginning to wish he'd just went for a cab.<p>

"Noah?" Rachel whispered, her eyes fluttering open, but staying at half-mast. He stopped and kneeled down, propping up Rachel on one of his legs and giving his arms a rest. She looked like she hardly knew where she was, and he wasn't surprised.

"Hey, Berry. How you doing? How d'you feel?" he asked, feeling a spike of worry. On his way out the party, he had been assured that she hadn't had her drink drugged – just drank a lot of tequila in a small space of time. He was relieved that she hadn't been drugged, but she had still drank a lot, and he didn't know if she could handle all that booze in her system.

"Fine," she murmured, "Sleepy." her eyes were closing again, but he gave her a little shake.

"You feel sick?" he prompted, and she shook her head. She would probably be better throwing up now, and getting any alcohol left in her stomach out, before she had a chance to absorb it and get even more drunk. "You wanna make yourself sick? It might help," he stroked her face, holding her head up to keep her awake.

"Can't," Berry answered quietly, obviously about to fall asleep again. "Tried before. No gag reflex."

Well.

Okay.

Forcing down his shock, Puck shook himself. He would store that information away for later, more appropriate, date. He looked back to her, but she was asleep. He gave her a prod in the side and she moaned, frowning in her sleep and shifting, and he felt relief. She wasn't dying, she didn't have alcohol poisoning – she just drank too much and needed to sleep it off. He couldn't leave her alone in the house tonight, though. He needed to spend the night with a paralytic Rachel Berry, who would likely be throwing up. Not the most appealing idea, but he knew he wouldn't leave her.

Add to that the fact that he was _carrying _home a drunk girl, who had just told him she had no gag reflex, and he was going to tuck her in without laying a hand on her? He was a freaking saint. _The things you'll do for Rachel Berry_, his mind teased him. Since when did his mind tease him as if it was a seperate person? Once again, Berry was messing with his head in new and creative ways.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>At long last, they reached Berry's house. Puck had never been happier to see it. Walking up to the porch and ever-so-gently setting the girl down, he lifted the plant pot he knew they kept a spare key under. Bingo. They needed to find more creative places to hide their keys, seriously.<p>

Opening the door, sticking a hand in and hitting the lights on, he picked Rachel back up and carried her inside. Thank. Fuck. For that. Wasting no time in walking up to her room, he set her down on the bed with relief.

For an awkward moment, he wondered if he should help her get undressed. For once in his life, he didn't have any sleazy intentions. He just thought that's what you did when you put a drunk person to bed – pull off their shoes, maybe help them into some sleep clothes. That's what people did on TV. But the people on TV were not him and Rachel Berry, and they were not as drunk as she was at that moment.

To stall the decision, he went to the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards until he found what he was looking for – a big, steel bowl. He had a funny feeling Rachel would be getting very well acquainted with the bowl over the course of the night.

When he came back up to the room, Rachel was still lying how he'd left her, but her eyes were trying to open, and she was blinking lazily.

"Hey, Rach," he hurried over, setting the bowl by the bed and running a hand gently over her hair. "You're awake at last, huh?"

Blearily looking around her room, Berry looked like she was trying to make sense of her surroundings. "I'm... home?" she asked uncertainly, slowly.

"Yeah... I, uh... you were pretty drunk, so I carried you home. I used the key outside, hope that's okay, I just didn't want to leave you there or anything," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. When he glanced up, Rachel had managed to sit up a bit, frowning in a perplexed, drunken way. Shit, what had he done now?

"You carried me all the way home?" she whispered, and her eyes looked like they were filling with tears. Crap.

"I... well, yeah." he wasn't sure if he should be apologising or something like it. But a moment later, a grateful smile spread across Rachel's face.

"Always saving me," she smiled, and her eyelids started to droop. Moving towards her legs, he gently took off her shoes, and asked her if she wanted to change. She nodded, suddenly pulling down her skirt, taking off his jacket, and pulling off her sweater, until she was just in her bra and pants. Black, and lacy, and completely unlike anything he thought Berry would wear.

Puck's face felt like it was on fire. He tried his hardest to be a gentleman, and kept his eyes pinned firmly to the wall. She must be _absolutely_ wasted if she just stripped down in front of him. He tried to mentally joke with himself about how much she would regret it in the morning, something, anything to distract him from the fact that Rachel Berry was right fucking there in her underwear. Looking at her would be wrong, though, taking advantage. Goddamnit, why had he picked tonight of all nights to get a moral compass?

Hearing Rachel stumble towards her drawers and open them, he waited until he heard the sounds of clothes being pulled out and put on before he turned around. She was wearing an oversized black top that fell to her mid-thigh and to his surprise, she pulled his jacket back on as she climbed unsteadily into bed.

Finally, she was going to sleep. He wasn't sure where to go. Should go downstairs and sleep on the couch? Or should he sleep on the floor in her room, to keep an eye on her overnight?

He was saved making the choice by Rachel, who spoke, her eyes already closed. "C'mere, Noah."

He hesitated. "Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea, Berry." He could just imagine her face tomorrow, when she realised she had woken up beside the Lima Loser who should mind his own business. Horror, disgust, regret that it wasn't Finn. He didn't want to deal with that.

"I insist," she said weakly, drunkenly, but he could see a glimpse of the normal, bossy Rachel Berry in there. "Not sleeping on the floor. Sleep in the bed." She swung her arm up, bringing it down on the space beside her hard, in some sort of wrecked attempt at a come-here pat of the bed.

He sighed again, resigned to his fate. She wasn't going to shut up unless he did... and he really wanted her to shut up. Flicking the light off, he kicked off his shoes and cautiously got under the quilt(keeping his jeans and top on, obviously. He wasn't an idiot). Lying stiffly on his back, he tried very hard to keep his hands to himself, until he heard a quiet voice through the darkness.

"I'm cold."

He peered at her, and he could see that she was. She was shivering, even in a jacket and under a quilt. It had to be the alcohol – it happened to him sometimes, when he came home drunk after being out in the cold. But what exactly did she want from him here? Did she want his part of the quilt?

The truth was, he knew he should cuddle her, to heat her up... but he was, for some reason, scared. Puck could chat up any chick you wanted without even trying, it was second nature to him. Getting sex and make-out sessions were his _thing_. But put a certain small, talented girl in front of him, shivering and needing a hug, and he started to get nervous. The fuck.

"Yeah, well, alcohol makes you cold. Makes your blood vessels dilate. S'why your face goes red. You feel warm, but you're actually losing heat from your bloodstream 'cause your blood's closer to the surface of your skin," he said, the unneeded Fact of the Day feeling more than a little stilted. He only said something, so he would be saying something. If that made sense. He wasn't sure what to do, so he said anything that came to mind.

And what? So he knew something about blood vessels and stuff. Contrary to popular belief, he had actually went to Biology once or twice. He might even have paid attention a few times. Mainly because they were talking about alcohol.

Rachel didn't answer, and kept shivering. He could feel her tremors shaking the bed. For about a minute, he stayed still. It wasn't until her teeth started chattering that he gave in.

Rolling over onto his side, facing her back, Puck put a hand on her shoulder. He didn't even need to ask – as soon as she felt his touch, she moved back, nestling against his chest like she belonged there.

Weirdly enough, it sort of felt like she did.

He felt strangely at peace. She was pressed back against his chest, and he had an arm draped over her waist. She would wake up in a few hours, and realise her mistake, and throw him out, but for now he was happy. After a few minutes, she stopped shivering, and a soft sigh followed by even breathing told him she had finally fallen asleep.

He pulled her a little bit closer, actually feeling butterflies in his stomach at her warmth, and her closeness, the way her lips were parted just a little and the way her eyelashes moved when she blinked in her sleep.

And even though he never would have thought this possible, Puck fell asleep holding Rachel Berry.

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><p>.<p>

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><p><strong>Sorry I took a while to update, and sorry if this chapter seems a bit all over the place – my dad's in hospital(he's okay, don't worry!) and I've been going up to see him twice a day every day. I'm just pretty stressed and it was hard to getkeep myself in the writing mood. But as an added bonus, it's super long compared to the others. I have this need to constantly top everything I do, so I have a feeling chapters are going to be getting longer every time, haha!**

**Oh and a disclaimer – Drunk!Berry's passing out/shivering/sleepiness was based on what me and my friends were like in our younger house party days. There were quite a few times when someone was knocked out shivering on the floor and others would pile stuff on them, or draw on them, and other mature things. We always knew our friends were okay and we knew when "passed out" turned to "medical emergency". So PLEASE, if your friends are in a real drunken mess and you're worried they might need help, don't hesitate to get them a doctor. They'd rather have their stomach pumped than have a funeral, right? Better safe than sorry. :)**


	6. So How's About That Kiss?

**Sorry for taking SO long to update! Stress makes it impossible for me to write. When I'm stressed out, I find it really hard to get into the writing mood. And when I do, I'm convinced everything I write is terrible and end up deleting it. I've re-written every single paragraph in this at least 5 times. There's a lot more thought than dialogue for the first half +- of this chapter, but trust me it speeds up further in. Anyway, it might've taken a while, but it's here!**

**In the show, I'm glad Karofsky's starting to see the impact of what he did and he's trying to change. _Howeverrr_... I know Glee tackles real issues, but ultimately it's happy-ending orientated. And unfortunately, in real life, sometimes the bullies don't change – they get worse. So, I'll continue to shamelessly exploit Karofsky's bad potential for the sake of this fic. Sorry again if any of turns out to be disturbing or scary later on(even I don't know if it will yet), but things like this happen in real life. Karofsky in this is based half on the Glee character, and half on a person I used to know. Even some of the things he does/says are taken from RL. Rest assured I'm not just sick and twisted person who likes scaring Rachel – I'm simply inspired by reality.**

**PS: since the show is so far ahead of me now, I guess this fic can now officially be considered AU. I'll still be writing about milestones like Prom, Nationals, and what have you, but I won't be sticking to the show's events/storylines exactly. :)**

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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><p>Sighing, Rachel moved closer to the heat beside her. She wasn't quite asleep, but she was in the addled, not quite awake realm where things didn't make sense like they should. She knew she was tired, and her mind was begging her to go back to sleep. She was warm, and happy, and she knew there was someone in her bed. Someone that made her feel safe and secure. Shifting just a little so that her forehead came to rest against something warm, she sighed again. Surely, nobody had ever been as comfortable as she was in that moment.<p>

Wait. There was someone in her bed?

Latching onto this piece of information and worrying at it, she slowly, agonisingly, began to pull herself from her sleep. As she did, an astounding array of feelings began to attack her body.

Her head was killing her, smothered by a dull and constant headache that made it even harder to think. Her skin felt hot and tight, like she was running a fever. Her stomach churned uneasily, and her throat was dry. She was so thirsty it felt like she'd been in the desert for weeks. What was going on? Her eyes snapped open, and she stifled a gasp at what she saw.

She was in bed with Noah Puckerman.

More accurately, she was _cuddling_ with Noah Puckerman. She was millimeters away from his face. He was asleep – soundly, by the looks of it. Her forehead was touched to his, and his arm was draped over her waist. Her hand rested lightly on his flank, just by his chest. She instructed herself to keep very still and calm, though her erratic breathing did not help. What if he woke up? Did something happen between them? How did she get here?

Then, the flashbacks started. Hazy glimpses of the night before rushed to the forefront of her mind, and she was surprised by what her memory showed her. She had been drunk. Monumentally drunk, if her hangover was anything to go by. Noah had taken her home... he had carried her home. He had carried her the thirty minute walk from Sam's house, and tucked her into bed, and held her without complaining or making a move on her.

And suddenly, Rachel was very aware of _exactly_ how close she was to him. She could count his eyelashes, hear his low breathing, and she could even feel his heartbeat where her hand was placed on his side. Her insides gave a curious jolt as she looked at him. She had kissed him before, shared her thoughts with him before, but in a way she had never been so close or seen him so exposed as she did in that moment.

When he was sleeping, he wasn't _Puck_, all macho posturing and bravado. He wasn't the cocky, and sometimes angry, man that patrolled McKinley and glared at the geeks and flirted shamelessly with every girl. When he was sleeping, he was just Noah. Stripped of all his contrived attitude, she could see the person he so rarely gave her a glimpse of...

The one who stroked her hair to reassure her when she was too drunk to know where she was. The one who carried her home and looked away when she got changed(she took a moment to cringe at the memory of stripping in front of him). The one who always helped her, no matter how reluctant he was, without seeming to care how much it would damage his reputation. The one who changed who he was because of her and felt guilty for ever doing her wrong.

It really was nice to see that man again.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Flushed and confused by the rush of feelings, Rachel tried to snap out of it. Whatever she might or might not feel for him, she had to focus on her immediate problem: the sleeping Noah in her bed and the issues he presented. It was bound to be awkward when he woke up. She didn't want to face that conversation, but she couldn't just leave him in her bed forever. He was going to wake up at some point, and she wasn't sure what to say to him.<p>

_First order of business – get some clothes on,_ she told herself. She could tell she had nothing on her bottom half besides her panties, and it was making her uncomfortable. She still couldn't believe she'd stripped down to her underwear with him standing right there. She was so drunk she hadn't even thought twice about it, at the time. Alcohol really was a horrible thing.

Slowly, carefully, she started inching away from Noah. She slid her hand from his side, moved back from his forehead, gently lifted his arm from her waist. Noah made a noise of sleepy protest, and hugged her back to him tighter. The butterflies in her stomach caused by that had to be down to fear of waking him up, right? Nothing else.

Rachel really, really missed being hugged. Being wanted, being shown affection. Besides her dads, nobody in her life had ever cared for her, until Finn. And he was gone now. The world saw her as strong, independent, and evidently as insufferable. They didn't realise that all she wanted was someone to hug. She craved human contact, someone to smile at her and smooth her hair, or hold her hand, or bump against her affectionately. Sure, sometimes Kurt or Mercedes gave her a hug, but that was in between the times they were calling her irritating or difficult. Almost every compliment she got, even from her friends, was backhanded. "I like you but you're annoying."; "You have a horrible personality but you can really sing."; and countless more like that.

It hurt to know that she was so unbearable, even her own friends couldn't stop themselves from taking swipes at her. Noah might not be awake to know he was hugging her, but it was still nice to get some affection that wasn't preceded or followed by an insult. She was sorely tempted to just let herself lie there in his arms – but no, she had to get herself away from this situation.

Shimmying away from him quicker this time, she managed to extricate herself from his arms and the quilt without incident. A fresh wave of hangover symptoms hit her, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down in a dark room until she stopped feeling like death warmed over. However, this wasn't the time. Moving quietly over to her drawers, she took out a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved top. To hell with dressing pretty – she was positive she was the most hungover anyone had ever been. She was dressing for comfort, and she didn't even care if Noah saw her like that.

She would never, ever admit it, but Rachel always tried to look as nice as she possibly could around Noah. She had to – given the girls he usually dated, she must look ugly enough as it was by comparison. She always put in extra effort, so he wouldn't look at her and burst out laughing at her sheer unattractiveness. Not that she cared what Noah thought of her looks.

Offering up a silent thank-you for her dancer's grace, Rachel made it to the bathroom without tripping or knocking anything over. Noah stayed soundly asleep as she gently shut and locked the bathroom door. She let herself give a low moan of pain, now that Noah wouldn't be woken up by any noise she made, and switched on the shower.

It wasn't until this point that Rachel realised she was still wearing his jacket. Feeling something heavy in the pockets, she fished the item out and saw that it was Noah's phone. Ordinarily, she was all about respecting people's privacy, and she would be mortified if someone looked through her phone. She didn't have anything to hide; she just didn't like the idea of people rummaging where they shouldn't.

But at the same time... she was definitely curious about what sort of thing Noah had on his phone. What if she just looked at the texts she and Noah had sent each other? There weren't many of them, but she could remember sending him at least a few. And if she happened to see any other texts on the way... well, that was just a completely unintentional piece of happenstance, right?

Her conscience(barely) soothed, she switched on the phone's screen and saw that Noah had three new messages. Well, she would just admit it – she was nosey. No pun intended. Opening his inbox, she saw one message from Mercedes and Kurt, respectively, and one from an unknown number. She opened the unknown number message first.

_its lindsey from last nite this is my no call me if you wanna get 2gether sometime ;)x x _

That had to be the cheerleader from last night. The one that she'd seen Noah exit a bedroom with, looking scruffy and like they'd been rolling about on a bed. Rachel tried to muster up some scorn, to roll her eyes derisively at the thought of Noah being his recklessly promiscuous self, but the only emotion within her reach was decidedly _not _scorn. It was softer, a hint of uneasiness and a flutter in her chest that told her she didn't want Noah to be kissing any cheerleaders at all. The idea actually caused a painful twinge, when she thought about it.

She quickly scolded herself. She didn't have a right to be jealous... not that she was jealous. Noah and her were not suited to be a couple, that much was obvious. He was endlessly frustrating, infuriatingly arrogant and incorrigibly apathetic(although he called it "chillaxed") - they were polar opposites. No, she just found him attractive, that was all. She still had feelings for Finn. And this was Noah Puckerman they were talking about! It wasn't as if he would have feelings for her. He had told her himself on numerous occasions: he didn't "do" feelings.

Resisting the urge to delete the text so Noah would never get Lindsey's number, Rachel opened up the text from Kurt next.

_Wow, it got even brighter when you were leaving the room. Had to put my Gucci shades on. Still __maintain you "ain't jealous of shit?" :)_

Well, that was cryptic. Rachel frowned at the text, wondering when Kurt started texting Noah with that degree of confidence. He was making fun of Noah for something, but she couldn't figure it out. Jealous of shit? Wrinkling her nose at the profanity, Rachel suddenly recalled Puck pulling her back from her kiss with Sam, grumbling about Rachel and Sam practically... fornicating... in the middle of the spin the bottle game.

Wait. Kurt couldn't possibly be implying that... Noah was jealous when she kissed Sam? As soon as the idea came to her, she scoffed. Preposterous. She and Noah certainly had a lot of chemistry(and he had lovely arms), but... she shook her head, ignoring the the tiny, hopeful smile on her lips as she opened the text from Mercedes.

_sam's awake an hes drunk chattin how rachels such a good kisser :)) u better get in there quick puckerman b4 he tries it again! hahahah _

Rachel gaped at the phone. Noah was jealous of the kiss? A feeling of warmth stole over her, and for some reason her smile was back with a vengeance. She looked at the timestamp on the text – it had been sent late last night, when everyone was drunk already. Surely Mercedes and Kurt had just been inebriated and their judgement was impaired. They were probably wrong about Noah being jealous, just tipsy and looking for some gossip. That had to be it.

Still, she couldn't help the faint buzz of happiness in her as she slipped the phone back into the jacket and climbed in to the shower.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>A shower helped rid her of some of the hangover, but Rachel knew the worst was not over by a long shot. The rest of today would be dedicated to feeling sorry for herself and avoiding loud noises... once Noah was gone. Which was a problem she had yet to face.<p>

Quickly getting dressed, wiping under her eyes to rid herself of last night's running makeup, and brushing her teeth(the mint toothpaste made her feel even more nauseated), she ventured back into the bedroom quietly. She hoped Noah was awake by now, so she would be saved the awkwardness of having to wake him up.

But he was - of course - still asleep. He was sprawled diagonally across her bed like he owned it, tangled up in the quilt. She had to make herself stifle a smile.

"Noah?" She ventured quietly. No reaction.

She increased the volume a little bit, and made her voice firmer. "Noah."

Still no reaction. "_Noah_!"

The only response she got was him shifting his arm to a more comfortable position. She scowled. How did this boy ever wake up in the morning? And then she remembered – he usually didn't.

Marching over to the bed, Rachel put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake. When he didn't move, she gave him a harder shake, and another, and another still, until she was practically rag-dolling him around the bed. Only then did he give a groan and lift up an arm to swat her away. Stepping out of the way of his feeble protest, she crossed her arms and blew her bangs out of her face. "Noah Puckerman!"

"Mmph?" He grunted, managing to sound angry and pathetic at the same time.

"You are impossible to wake up!"

"Don't wake me up, then," Noah grumbled into the pillow. Rachel started tapping her foot, throwing in a few long-suffering sighs for effect. Eventually he gave a growl and rolled over, rubbing a hand over his face and blinking at her sleepily. "_Fine_, woman. M'up."

If he noticed her displeasure at being referred to as 'woman', he didn't seem to care. He stretched out languidly across the bed, giving Rachel an excellent view of his muscles as they flexed. She tried hard not to stare at his arms, or the glimpse of abs she could see where his shirt had ridden up.

You can bet that Noah noticed her staring, and a lazy smirk crept on to his face. "Time's it?" He wondered, tone full of innocence, but Rachel didn't miss the not-so-accidental flex he gave his arms while looking right at her. Time to focus on something that didn't make her feel a bit lightheaded, she decided.

"Nine thirty," she answered primly, and raised her eyebrows when he threw her an outraged look. "What?"

"You woke me up at _nine thirty_ on a _Saturday_?" He demanded, sitting up.

"That's hardly early, Noah. I myself slept until nine o'clock, and as far as I recall that's the latest I've ever slept. What time would you usually wake up at?" Personally, she didn't see how anybody managed to sleep late. She was definitely a morning person – she loved waking up bright and early, getting a rigorous workout and setting goals for the day. It really was just the sensible thing to do.

"I dunno. Two? Maybe three or four? Depends what time I get in the night before," he shrugged. Rachel's jaw dropped. Four o'clock in the _day_? She knew he was lazy, but that was taking it to new heights.

Shaking her head mutely, she walked over to her dresser and picked up a brush, running it through her hair while Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed and smirked at her.

"So, rough night last night, huh?" he grinned, and Rachel cringed inwardly. What she _could_ remember was embarrassing enough. She didn't even want to think about the things she _couldn't_ remember from the night before. She nodded, shamefaced, biting her lip and trying to figure out a way to express her gratitude without sounding pathetic. In the end, she just blurted it out.

"Thank you for helping me last night. I know it must have been an inconvenience having to stay here and make sure I was okay, and I apologise if I behaved inappropriately. If I'd known the amount of alcohol I consumed would get me that drunk, I wouldn't have drank so much. I was just feeling..." She tailed off uncomfortably, not sure exactly _what_ she had been feeling. Angry, at Finn. Heartbroken, because of Finn. And... angry at Noah for the cheerleader? She wasn't saying that out loud.

She saw a flicker in Noah's expression that made her wonder if he could tell what she was thinking, but then he was shrugging, and his face was back to being unreadable.

"No problem, Berry. It's not an inconvenience – believe me, it ain't the first time I've got drunk and woke up in some chick's bed."

She flushed, first because it was _not like that_ and second because... she didn't want to hear about his sexual conquests. She didn't want to imagine him "hooking up" with more perfect, skinny cheerleaders like the one from last night. Instead of responding, she gave another nod and tried to smile.

Neither spoke for a while, until Noah broke the silence by blurting out something of his own. "So Finn told me about last night. With you kissing him and stuff." His tone was casual, but his expression looked a little too guarded. He was trying not to give something away, but she couldn't tell what.

Rachel felt her face crumple, but she was determined not to cry. It didn't matter how raw the pain still was, or how much it felt like Finn was kicking her in the heart with everything he did... she was not going to cry about it in front of people. Particularly not his best friend. She took a deep breath and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, trying to distract herself from the tears she felt building.

"_He_ kissed _me_, actually," she murmured. "When I went to look for – when I was upstairs," she hastily amended, but too late. She'd broached the uncomfortable subject of seeing Noah and Lindsey kissing, and felt herself tense. "I... I was upstairs and I ran into Finn. He didn't like the fact that I was drunk, and that I was wearing your jacket. I told him that it wasn't any of his business since he has a new girlfriend to focus on, a-and he obviously doesn't care about me anymore," she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and gave a sad smile. "And he kissed me."

Noah was frowning in thought, as if he was silently calculating something. He seemed to come to a conclusion, and his expression merged into a scowl. "What happened then?" He prompted, with the air of someone who already knows good and well what happened.

"Quinn saw us while we were kissing. And Finn – Finn pushed me away from him, and told Quinn that I was the one who kissed him, that he couldn't stop me. And that it wouldn't happen again." A bitter taste flooded her mouth as she heard Finn's words in her head, and she felt her lip quiver. _No. _She was not going to cry for Finn Hudson. She'd spent two years doing that - it had got her nowhere and nothing but loneliness and a broken heart.

To her surprise, Noah didn't answer, or even give any indication he'd heard her or noticed her tears. He stood up abruptly, pulling on his shoes. "I gotta head home," he grunted, running a hand over his hair. "Guess I'll see you Monday or something."

Startled, Rachel nodded and watched him walk towards the door. She remembered his jacket, and called out to him. "Noah, wait."

She couldn't decode the expression on his face when he turned around – something between irritated and expectant. She walked towards him and handed him the letterman, putting a hand on his arm and smiling softly. "Thank you for the jacket. And... thank you for taking care of me. You always do."

Noah jerked his arm away, and she flinched. What was wrong with him?

He took the jacket with a curt nod, and muttered a goodbye. When he reached the doorway, he whirled around suddenly, his jaw set.

"He's always gonna do this, you know? He's always gonna want Quinn when he's with you, and want you when he's with Quinn. He's been doing it for _two fucking years_, Berry. Did you really think he was gonna stop now? He doesn't love you. He loves the idea of being so cool and good looking that he's got this hot talented chick and the head cheerleader following him around, like dogs he can call on whenever he wants. The sad part is you always go back to him, like a gullible fucking idiot. It's pathetic."

His words were vicious, rendered even more painful because they were _true_. Rachel hated herself for not being able to keep eye contact with him, for not being able to stop her tears. "Why are you being so horrible?" She whispered.

"Cause you don't see it! It doesn't even matter to you who else would..." Noah cut himself off with a frustrated growl. "You just - you deserve so much fucking better than that asshole, and it sucks."

He didn't give her time to think of an answer. He shrugged on his jacket, walking straight out the door and out of her house, leaving her to stare after him.

* * *

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* * *

><p>When Noah was gone, Rachel spent most of Saturday crying. The pain and anger that alcohol had numbed the night before rushed back as soon as she heard the front door close, and she curled up on her bed, dissolving into tears.<p>

How could Finn do this to her? She was melodramatic, and the first one to admit it. She did have a tendency to act like her day-to-day life was a drama-filled movie or musical. Drama was something she expected and thrived on, but that didn't mean she couldn't be hurt.

Finn was more than just a source of drama – he was a source of pain, rejection, of self-doubt and crippled self-esteem. He played with her feelings like they weren't real, or they didn't matter. He knew how much she had loved him, how desperately she wanted him back... but he could only bring himself to kiss her when he thought another man wanted to. And even then, he was quick to push her away when Quinn saw them.

She was his safety net. A second choice. One that he liked having around, in case he decided he wanted a change, or Quinn hurt him, or another man showed interest in her. She had always been that to him. She always would.

Up until this point, she hadn't ever allowed herself to admit it. She had been _so sure_ that it was meant to be. It was the stuff movies were made of. Star quarterbacks didn't fall for the talented outcasts every day, did they? It had to be something deep and meaningful. The love of each other's lives. Love overcoming all the odds.

But no. She wasn't the tragic heroine and this was not a movie. This was real life. She was just another girl, being strung along by another guy who didn't know what he wanted. As naïve as it made her sound, she had never figured it out before. And somehow, the realisation that she was _not_ living some kind of fantasy shook her deeply.

And Noah. She replayed his rant over and over again, picking it apart – the last part in particular. _You deserve so much fucking better than that asshole, and it sucks. _

She knew she deserved better than Finn – deep down, she always had. Finn was fickle, and happy to comply with what other people wanted even if it meant not sticking up for her when she needed him. He could never figure out whether he loved her, or he was embarrassed to be seen with her. But on the other hand... he was patient, and he _tried_ to be good, and happy to share the spotlight – all the things she wasn't. Previously, she had thought they balanced each other out. Now she was beginning to suspect they were simply incompatible.

_You don't see it. It doesn't even matter to you who else would..._ _You deserve so much fucking better than that asshole, and it sucks._

Puck had been trying so hard not to say it, but Rachel knew what he meant. Or at least, she thought she did. She could be making it all up in her head – maybe he was just being a concerned friend. Maybe he wasn't trying to say it should be him instead of Finn. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd convinced herself someone had feelings for her when they didn't: take Finn, Mr Schue, and Jesse as just a few examples.

And yet...

At 10 o'clock at night, she picked up her phone(devoid of messages as usual), and typed a text to Noah, before she could convince herself not to.

- _Hello Noah. I'm sorry if I angered you earlier. I know that having to deal with me while I was in a delicate emotional state must have been irritating, and doubtless not the activity you would have chosen so early on a weekend morning. I hope you can accept my apology. I'm aware that you said we are not friends and, in accordance with that, I will try not to annoy you with my problems from here on out. Sorry again. Rachel * _

Well, maybe it was a bit formal, but when Rachel was nervous she had a tendency to talk in a long-winded and flowery way. Even via text.

After an anxious few minutes' wait, her phone signalled an incoming text, and she snatched it. One new message from Noah.

- _berry shut up_

That hurt more than she expected. She bit her lip, her face falling in sadness. So much for apologising – and she wasn't even sure what she'd done. She was about to throw her phone down, but another text came through – then another – then another. All three of them were from Noah.

- s_rsly how do u talk so much in txt. tht was like 5 pages. _

_- listen tho shut up about bein sorry. it was my bad. im a grouchy fuck when im just awake lol. ignore tht shit i said._

_- n we are friends_

It wasn't until she read the final text that she started smiling. It was sad, how a thing so simple as someone admitting they were actually friends made her. The next few messages exchanged only made her smile grow, and before she realised it, her tears had gone.

_- Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to me – really. As someone who doesn't have too many friends, I'm glad to count you as one of them. In the interest of brevity, I'll try not to make this text too long. I just wanted to thank you again for yesterday, and say sorry again. Rachel *_

_- berry i told u shut up with the sorry lol. listn u need a ride 2 skl on monday?_

_- My dads are back tomorrow night, I think Daddy's going to give me a ride in so we can catch up and hear about each other's weekends. Thank you for offering, though, I appreciate it. :-) Rachel *_

_- np just stay away from karofsky. if he even looks at u funny jus lemme know n il kick his face in_

_- While I don't condone violence, I do appreciate your concern. Don't worry, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I've dealt with many bullies over the years – David Karofsky is not the first, the last, or the scariest. I'll be fine. :-) I'm going to bed, so I expect I'll see you on Monday. Sweet dreams! Rachel *_

_- bed at ten thirty on a saturday nite_

_- Well, I have dance class tomorrow morning, but I want to wake up early to rehearse a song I've been working on. We don't all live a life of debauchery and underage drinking, you know :-) Rachel *_

_- u did live tht life last nite lol._

_- jus kiddin berry, dont pull a face. i kno ur pullin a face. gnite crazy. x_

For a long time, Rachel stared at the "x" at the end of the text. Noah was not the type of person who put x's on things – even when he was trying to seduce a girl. For some reason, it felt like a big deal to her, and she was nervous while she typed her reply. A simple one word, but it took more guts to type than any of the other ones.

_- Goodnight x_

* * *

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* * *

><p>By the time Monday came, Rachel was feeling a lot more optimistic about life. So the only thing Finn did consistently was break her heart over and over. So she was conflicted about her feelings for Noah. So Karofsky was dead set on tormenting her – she was Rachel Barbra Berry, talented young ingénue who was destined for Broadway. Her focus had to be on her schoolwork. After all, she needed perfect grades to get into Julliard, and she needed Julliard to kickstart her long and celebrated Broadway career.<p>

She put all negative thoughts out of her mind as her Daddy, Leroy, drove her to school, and they chatted animatedly about their short time apart. Rachel loved her dads more than anything in the world, she really did – but she wished they wouldn't go away so much. They were the most loving, doting and supportive parents anyone could wish for, but they jetted off on breaks and conferences and mini-holidays quite often. The only plus side was basking in the safety and happiness of their return, every time they came back.

Giving her Daddy a hug and kiss on the cheek, she smiled brightly at him. "I'll see you tonight after Glee practice. Thank you for the ride. Love you, Daddy."

He chuckled and smiled back warmly. "Love you too, Little Star. I'll see you at home."

Rachel's Daddy was the opposite of her in some ways – he was tall, dark-skinned, calm, and had a deep, slow voice that commanded respect and reassured people. Rachel could tell he was always amused by her chirpy, fast-paced speeches, but he never laughed in a cruel way. He loved his daughter with all of his heart - the good parts of her and the bad. Rachel knew it, and knew her Dad felt the same. She really was lucky to have such amazing parents.

Quickly giving her Daddy another hug, she picked up her bag and climbed out of the car, ready to face the day. For once the smile on her face was genuine as she walked into the halls of McKinley – not her usual no-matter-how-much-you-bully-me-you-won't-beat-me false smile... it was an honest to god, good mood grin.

Checking her phone for one last time before she switched it off(per school regulations, Rachel always switched her phone off during class hours), she noticed she had a text from Noah.

_- mornin my HLJAP. sup?_

_- Good morning, Noah! Nothing is "up", how are you this morning? And I feel the need to ask – what is a HLJAP? I'm afraid I'm not aware of what that particular acronym means. Rachel *_

_- hot little jewish american princess ;)_

Her cheeks burned, and she was glad that you couldn't tell someone's expression through text.

_- Then I suppose thanks are in order for the compliment. You are an attractive Jewish-American individual yourself. :-) Rachel * _

_- no problemo lil berry. c u in glee later?_

_- I should remind you that we have History together before lunch... or are you purposely forgetting that and engaging in truancy? Rachel * _

_- think im givin history a miss. puckerone lives for the present, babe. _

Rachel rolled her eyes, but she didn't feel the usual shock and disappointment that came with learning someone was cutting class, or breaking the law, or doing something "bad". She just felt a little amused.

_- You know, you're very smart, Noah. You think you're not, or you pretend you're not, but I happen to know that you're a very intelligent young man. You would do excellently if only you applied yourself to your schoolwork. You should try it some time. :-) Rachel *_

_- u offering to tutor me in biology? ;)_

She shook her head, suppressing a laugh and the inkling that maybe tutoring him in biology wouldn't be such a bad idea. You can bet that she shook _that _thought out of her mind as soon as it entered. Or... she tried to. "Incorrigible," she muttered, still smiling.

- _I'll see you in Glee, Noah. Rachel *_

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>The day went by fast. While most of her classmates lacked energy, and wasted what little they had moaning about it being Monday, Rachel got stuck into her work and found that time went quicker that way. Really, didn't everyone know that time went slower when you were bored? If you focused on something – even calculus – then it would take your attention away from clock-watching. It amazed her that her classmates hadn't learned that yet, or that they were so work shy they didn't care.<p>

When the final bell rang, the students stampeded out of the classroom. You could almost see the cartoon puff of smoke in their wake. All the students left, that is, apart from Rachel. She had cornered Mr McAvoy, her Calc teacher, to ask some questions about her homework assignment. She was irritated to see that Mr McAvoy looked less than thrilled by this.

After ten minutes, a comprehensive survey on the assignment from Rachel, and several not-so-sublte hints from Mr McAvoy that he wanted to leave(checking his watch; gazing longingly at the door; sighing – really quite rude of him), Rachel realised that she was late for Glee. Bidding a hasty farewell to her teacher(who made no effort to hide his relief and all but ran out the door in front of her), she double-checked she had everything and headed for the choir room.

She was buzzing with positive energy, striding through the empty hallways with a smile on her face. Her smile disappeared, though, when Karofsky stepped out from side hallway right in front of her.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>She froze, again. She felt a fleeting moment of shame – that she was so scared by this jock she literally couldn't move when he was near – but her reaction felt more appropriate when Karofsky noticed her. "Zeroed in on her", would have been a more fitting description. He looked like a lion who'd just spotted his prey. Why did he always run into her when she was alone?<p>

"Hey, it's the freak," he drawled, taking a step towards her. Automatically, Rachel took two steps back, putting her back almost at the wall. She drew in a deep breath, and tried to force herself not to stutter when she spoke. It didn't work.

"W-Why do you keep harassing me? What do you want?" It was supposed to be delivered in a calm, authoritative way, but it came out as more of a miserable squeak. Karofsky grinned cruelly, pretending to mull over his answer. It did not put her at ease.

"Maybe 'cause you're a _freak,_" he repeated harshly. "You and that whole Homo Explosion club – fuckin' fags and freaks and fag-spawn all getting together to sing and dance? It's just so pathetic it's almost funny. Except I don't wanna look at your faggy rainbow parade in my school. It makes me _sick_." He was growling now, his grin gone, and he took a step closer.

Rachel felt her shoulders hunch up, her arms wrap protectively around herself, her head lower. It was a posture she knew well – every time she was bullied, every time she was rejected, she couldn't help curling in on herself, trying to be as small as possible.

Her eyes darted to Karofsky's face, and she saw that it hadn't healed. His eye was still black, and his lip still had a tell-tale red mark where it had been split. He noticed her looking at his injuries, and his eyes sparked dangerously.

"So what you gonna do now that Mohawk isn't here to save you, Princess?" he leered.

Rachel's heart started thudding irregularly, and her mouth went dry. Try as she might, she couldn't control her shallow breaths, which were more pants than anything by now. Every muscle in her body was tensed painfully, poised between staying still and running away. She felt dizzy, she couldn't breathe, she had to get away but she couldn't.

_Fight or Flight response,_ she thought with a nauseating sense of detatchment. _Textbook case._

Why her mind was reciting the signs of Fight or Flight, she wasn't sure, but it could have been to shelter her from her fear. Because Karofsky was closing in, getting closer, and she couldn't move, and he was less than a foot away, and she couldn't look away from his eyes because he'd trapped her again with that stare, and she still couldn't move until he spoke.

"So how's about that kiss?"

That seemed to trigger something in her, and the energy in her snapped, propelling her forwards and shoving her past him with all the strength she could use. The force and the unexpectedness of it sent him stumbling back, and she started to run.

She didn't get five steps before she felt a tremendous shove at her back, sending her crashing to her knees with a cry of pain. _Run, run, run_, she begged herself frantically. _Get up, get up, run_. Rattled by the fall, blind with panic, she tried to get her bearings and scramble up, but before she could she was doubled over in agony from a punishing kick to the stomach.

Gasping, she clutched her abdomen, and she couldn't even moan in pain because all the air had been slammed out of her by the force of the blow. "Stop," she croaked pitifully, "Please,"

She felt the air shift, and that was all the split-second warning she had before another kick connected with her stomach. Her vision flickered, and she realised she was crying silently. "Please."

"Fuckin' fag spawn," Karofsky snarled. Or he might have – she couldn't hear much above the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her heart. She shut her eyes tightly, curled on the floor, trying to protect herself from further hits.

They never came.

It could have been thirty seconds or thirty hours later that she finally opened her eyes, her breath still rasping as she struggled to draw in enough air. Karofsky was gone – she was alone in the hallway once more. But she still couldn't make herself get up. She was still curled in a ball, shaking violently.

Her stomach was aching, a dull throb that spiked whenever she shifted her position. Her knees stung, and looking at them told her they'd been burned by the friction of her fall. Rachel curled herself more tightly into a ball until she was almost in foetal position, trying to calm her thudding heart, but nothing seemed to work. She was shaking uncontrollably, sweating, and she felt like her chest was being crushed. She closed her eyes again, singing to herself in her head, and simply trying to breathe. _When you're smiling, when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you. When you're laughing, when you're laughing, the sun comes shining through. _Her dads used to sing that to her when she was a little girl, and some bully had sent her come crying. She wished her dads were here. She just wanted to be safe.

She sang the song over and over in her head until gradually, her fear abated, and a feeling of dull shock took over. Everything took on an air of being unreal – like she was just watching this happen on TV, and she couldn't really feel the pain - which should have been scarier than anything. But it was a welcome change to the panic attack she had been having before.

Sitting up gingerly, she was well and truly on autopilot. She didn't feel like she was in control of her actions, which was probably why it seemed like a good idea to go to Glee. She had already missed one, she reasoned. The team probably needed her there. _You're fine. You're okay. He's gone. Silly to get upset. Go to Glee. You'll be fine if you get up. Just get up._

Numbly, she climbed to her feet and picked up her bag, ignoring the sharp pain that movement caused her. Her face was blank and her mind was even more so when she walked to the choir room, went in, and sat down without a word.

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><p>.<p>

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><p><strong>I know, poor Rachel. :( I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I'd literally sit down, write a paragraph or two, then get complete writer's block and go away for a day or two, then come back and repeat the process. I feel like it's pretty jumpy and blocky, which it probably is because I didn't write it in one go so it doesn't really flow as well... if that makes sense. Anyway, the next chapter is halfway done already, so there won't be such a huge wait for that! As always, thank you for your support and patience. I've taken on board things people suggested and I'm working a few into the story, so feel free to keep suggestions coming if you have anything you'd like to see. :)<strong>


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